summary: your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.
warnings: e2l. oc broke koo's heart :( but she did not mean it. they both overthink too much. jk is such a pet dad (BAM IS HERE YAY). oc is a confused mess. mutual pining. cursing. a lot of angst (sorry!). jungkook is a simp, head over hells crazy about oc. fluff bc why not. tae is bitter asf but he's right on this one. jk is the best boy I WANT HIM!!!!!!!!!!
song inspo: rainy days — V
wish I knew how to find the way right back to you, on rainy days like
part one | part two | drabble one
“I can't take it anymore,” Jungkook says as he stumbles for the seventh time on his feet walking around the living room “I’m losing my mind, Bamie.”
The dog looks at his owner with his head pointed sideways as if he understands what he’s been sorrowing about for the past 10 minutes. The rain pours angrily outside the apartment, Jungkook sighs as he realizes talking to his big ass puppy won’t solve any of his problems.
“She’s like, 5 min away from us, Bam! I should text her, right?”
He looks over his phone again, your instagram story is open and a picture of a window full of raindrops is seen — he knows where you’re at, you’ve both been to that coffee shop over a hundred times for the past years now. Can’t remember the last time he’s been to that place ‘cause he couldn’t stand the thought of being there without you. Now he’s wondering, wondering, wondering. Wonders if you’re back for real this time. If you are alone. If you are thinking about him too. Wonders what would happen if he just replied your story right now.
@jeonjk97: heard it’s the best caramel macchiato in town 👍
No— that’s too lame. Quickly erases the message.
@jeonjk97: want a ride home? it’s pretty bad outside.
Throws his phone on the sofa as he realizes he doesn’t know if you would accept his offer, doesn’t know if you’re sharing an apartment with Lola again either. Realizes he doesn’t know anything that’s been going on with you for a while now. More than what you let your 897 followers on Insta know too, at least. Blames himself for it, but knows it was for the best. Misses you like a fucker anyway.
“I should just call her.”
He picks up his phone, then also realizes he deleted your number months ago so he wouldn’t call you whenever his drunk ass thought it was the right thing to do.
“For fucks sake, grow some balls, Jungkook” he whines angrily at the air purifier as if it is the source of his problems. “Okay, Taehyung will know what do.”
He calls his best friend quickly, and prays Taehyung picks up before he grabs his car keys and drives himself to the colorful little cafe at the end of the street. Remembers how much you loved that place and the cookies they served. One caramel macchiato with extra topping and two medium chocolate cookies. You always ordered the same thing. Every damn time. Said it was in you, to never let go of the things you loved. You let go of him anyway.
“Jungkook-ah! Why are you calling? I told you I can't go out—“
“She’s back in town.” He cuts Taehyung abruptly and suddenly the other line is mute as well. Probably doesn’t believe it’s happening just as Jungkook didn’t believe himself minutes ago.
“Man, are you sure? Like, back for real?” he says, and Jungkook swears he can hear the disbelief in his tone from the other side. Yeah, he knows Taehyung is full of his late night calls to talk about you. Knows he is the one that’s been listening to it for months now —besides from his dobermann, of course— he’s the one who gets it, ‘cause he’s the only one who feels bitterly betrayed too. You were one of his best friends and yet, he didn’t knew your plans to move out from Busan as well.
“Aish, I’m not sure hyung. But she posted a picture a little while ago at the cafe down the street.” he blurted out, “Can’t even think straight now, man. You think she’s back for the holidays?”
Taehyung wondered for a little while. It was still August, Chuseok was weeks later. He didn’t say it out loud, but it wasn’t like you to drop work for so long, even if it was to visit your hometown. Nevertheless, he didn’t want Jungkook to get his hopes up. He knows how he is. Doesn’t want to see his friend’s heart breaking all over again.
“Mmm. Maybe, don’t know.” he sighed out loud “I thought we agreed to unfollow her after the second month.”
He hears Jungkook’s sad chuckle on the other side of the line, “Yeah, we did.”
Taehyung knows Jungkook wouldn’t bring himself to do it tho, and now he just confirms it. Being a little bit more resentful than Jungkook gave him the motivation to do so, but it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been missin’ your ugly face.
“Ok, so I need you to refresh my mind now. Tell me something so I won’t step outside that door right this second and make a fool of myself.” Jungkook continues to talk as if he’s been charged on 220W. And maybe he was. His heart has never beaten so fast for the past twelve months. His hair is all over the place from the countless times he grabbed it since he saw your photo. The tip of his fingers are tingling. Yeah, maybe he’s been electrocuted or something.
“Go.”
“What?” Jungkook says in disbelief. Doesn’t think he hears straight, ‘cause Taehyung would be the last one to say such a thing.
“I said go, Jungkook.” he sighs for what it seems to be the tenth time on the phone call. “I know you need this. You haven’t been yourself for so long now. You two have to talk properly at some point.”
“Ay, how frustratin really—” he tsks.
“For real, man. Go. Now.” he firmly says “What’s the worst she can do, leave?” Jungkook senses the bitter words coming from Taehyung’s mouth. He knows he’s not mad at you, just hurt. Knows Taehyung would forgive you in a heartbeat if you said how sorry you were for everything that went thru. Wonders if he would forgive you that easily too. But he knows his friend is right. He needs closure. Needs this.
“Yeah. Right.” he bites his lips and looks around. Sees Bam looking at him, as if he’s expecting an action from him too. “I’ll talk to you later, bro. Thanks.”
He turns off the phone and grabs his car keys tightly. Yeah, he’s doing it. Won’t think too much, it’s better this way. He will get in the car, drive for 5 minutes. Enter the coffee shop. Order. Pretend he doesn’t know you’re there. Eventually look over the spot he knows you’re at, the same table over the corner where you two always used to sit together, by the large window. Grab the coffee and go over casually, ask how you’ve been. Offer you a ride home —to your parents, probably, since you moved out from your apartment on the neighborhood for a while now. Say it’s because of the rain, he knows you hate to ask for Ubers on the rain. Didn’t trust just anyone driving on bad weather. Such a smart girl. He misses the shit out of you.
“Damn, ok. Pack it up, man.”
He calls Bam to his house and watches as the dog quickly follow his lead, as if he knows Jungkook is too anxious to play around right now. “Dad will be back soon, okay? Behave.”
And so he checks out his hair one last time on the mirror at his bathroom and goes before he changes his mind.
The drive is pretty quick. It’s actually a route he does walking, but it’s still pouring rain so he’s carrying on. On a rainy day. To a coffee shop. To get a coffee he could have made at the comfort of his home with his own little coffee machine. But it’s okay, he will just play pretend for this time.
He stops the car and just realizes he forgot his umbrella. “Are you fucking serious, Jungkook?”
Great. Brilliant. He feels so fucking dumb right now.
Thankfully, due to the cold season he was wearing his black sweatshirt and sweatpants so the rain wouldn’t do so much damage. He quickly got off the car and ran inside the cafe.
Surprisingly, it was full for a rainy night. Perhaps everyone had the usual thought; too lazy to make their own foods, they step out to grab something warm on the best coffee in the neighborhood.
Jungkook plays the script on his head over and over again as he whipes his hair side to side like a fluffy dog to get rid of the water that soaked it a little bit.
He looks ahead to the counter and his mind goes blank as he sees you over there now. At the little chair on the middle of the cafe. You seem lonely, messing with your hair a little bit, making a braid with a single tiny lock. It’s an old habit to make time pass, and Jungkook hates he remembers every little detail about you. His heart now has stopped, dropped to his knees. He really misses you.
“Bee!” the waiter calls, and Jungkook recognizes the nickname. Knows it’s you, ‘cause he’s the one that gave it to you years ago. Used to call you bee just to make fun of you, ‘cause you’re such a sweet tooth. Never met someone that loves sugar more than you do, so he started to call you that since you two became friends.
He watches at the end of the waiting line as you get up, straight your hand and pick up two cookies in a little pink plate. Chocolate chips cookies. Your favorite. His favorite as well.
You start to eat slowly so he averts his eyes. Doesn’t want to be catch staring and look like a fucking weirdo. It’s not like he drove here to see you. Talk to you. Not at all, the coffee here is great.
Finally the line walks and it’s his turn. “One black coffee, please. No sugar.” He says softly and suddenly feels his neck start to tingle. Knows you just realized he’s here, and you’re staring at him. Pretends he doesn’t tho, so continues to talk to the waitress as she asks who she would call when it’s ready “JK.” he says, then turns around to look for somewhere to sit and wait for the order. Looks over the table that you originally were, the one you posted a photo of. Then realizes now there’s a couple there, laughing together and taking pics of each other. He knows you. Knows you most likely offered the clingy couple the table, cause the house is full, and you wouldn’t take the table just for yourself. Even if it meant you would end up eating by the counter on the little puffed chair, you loved to drool over the pastries anyways.
He slowly looks the other way. Knows you’re on this direction so he has to be careful. You’re looking down. Seem sad all of the sudden and he just wants to hug you. For fucks sake. This is harder than he thought.
He sighs again as he realizes the only spots available are the 2 chairs on your right. He chooses the one that’s a little bit far just to be safe.
As he walks down, his chest tightens a little bit more. Now he doesn’t know what he’s doing here. It was a bad idea. Doesn’t even remember what the plan was at the first place.
He can smell your perfume as he walks past you and it’s like someone punches his stomach. Your sweet smell fills his nostrils and he just wants to be closer. Shove his nose on your hair like he used to. Then go down your neck and feel your skin respond with little goosebumps as he moves along it softly. Damn it. Jungkook wants to curse the life out of you but he can’t even bring himself to be mad right now. Only knows he misses you. Your touch. Your kiss. You.
Finally he sits and pretends as if he didn’t notice you there, continually looking over his phone as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world trying to figure out what to do next.
“JK!” The waitress calls him and he’s put out of his own world, looking up right away. You seem to be startled too as you look directly at him. You two look at each other for what seems to be minutes in a trance. You give him a tiny smile. He gives one back.
“JK!” he hears the call again and pulls himself out of the trance, going to grab the coffee from the waitress who’s on your left side. He pays for it and looks at you again. You’re still looking at him. Kinda unsure on how to act, he figures. It’s okay, cause he doesn’t know how to either.
As he sits, now on the chair closer to your right, he looks straight ahead and takes a gulp of the coffee. “Fuck!” he curses and pulls the coffee cup away as he burns his tongue with the damn thing.
You laugh thru your nose and his ears rapidly catch the sweet sound he used to hear all the time. Looks sideways to you, “Funny, huh?” he feels the air a little bit less heavy now, and he’s relieved.
“You just never change, Koo.” you say, still with that damn smile on your face he adores so much. He can’t take his eyes off of you. Realizes he never got over you, not even for a second. Probably never will.
“Don’t call me that.” those damned butterflies on his guts as he digests what you’ve said. You know it’s his favorite nickname. Knows only you call him by it. Knows he melts alway with this shit everytime.
You’re staring at him like that. So pretty. Soft brown sparkly eyes he missed so much. Now they seem to start hardening. “I’m sorry.” You say with a broken voice, and he feels the air shift all over again in a matter of seconds. Doesn’t know if you’re apologizing for the sweet nickname. For leaving him. For not calling. For not coming back. For everything.
“How’s everything?” He tries to ease the air back again. “It’s been a minute.”
He sees the corner of your lips tremble a little bit and you gulp. His chest pangs. Wonders if he did the right thing by pretending you never existed for the past months now. Just wants to make up for all the time both of you lost.
“Yup, it has.” You reply after a while. “I’m doing okay. What about you?”
You look up at him like everything is okay. If he didn’t know you, he would believe you were. But he knows better. You can’t hide anything from him, really. At least that’s what he thought. Knows he could be wrong, just like he was a year ago too.
“Cool. I’m cool.” he licks his dry lips and starts to think about his next move. Mind starts to blow up, a trillion thoughts at the same time and he’s back at it again. Can’t put his neurons to work properly. You’re actually right here in front of him, how is he supposed to?
Seems like you’re struggling yourself too. He doesn’t know if you’re trying to come up with an excuse to leave right now, or trying to find a subject in common as well.
You stare at your now half eaten cookie like it’s the most valuable thing in the world. The other one is already on the bag to go. You probably were planning on taking home to eat when the late night sweet crave hits you, like he remembers. Will put it on the microwave so it gets warm again and take a cup of milk with you, like you used to. Turn on netflix and watch one of those lame cooking programs, ‘cause you loved to waste your time watching people losing their heads to make giant chocolate sculptures. He secretly loved watching it with you. It’s the reason he watched every episode back and forth while you were away too.
“Is Bamie okay?” you murmur, now staring at your coffee cup with a little smile, thinking about the little puppy. Remembers how energetic and loving he was. Just like Jungkook. “You haven’t posted him in a while now.”
His tongue feels bittersweet again. He’s somehow happy knowing that you’ve been catching up with his life throught social media, even tho he disappears once in a while. At the same time, he’s sad. You could have been there for Bam. Should have, since you are the one who came up with the idea in the first place. Said he needed a little friend to match up with his chaotic energy. He ended up convinced and adopted the little guy. You always tended to get the best of him. Promised you’d help him to take good care of the baby, but only spent three months with Bam. Still, it’s like the puppy knows something is missing. Every night he looks over the door at any noise, like he’s expecting you to come throught it. Just like Jungkook used to do for the first months back then.
“He’s great, actually. Bigger than I expected him to be. Eats like a fucking bear.” he giggles a little remembering his big boy. “He’s loud too. Don’t know how the neighbors still haven’t ganged up against me to kick us out of the apartment.”
You giggle alongside him imagining the chaos those two must have been doing together. “I figured. You always have spoiled him too much. Told ya he would get bad habits.”
“Hey! You spoiled him too!” he throws it right back. Remembers how you used to let Bam sleep with the two of you on bed. It took him months to break that habit from the puppy’s routine.
You look up at him and smiles. Bright now. You know he’s right. You’ve treated that puppy like it was your own son. Kinda misses the three of you together like a big happy family.
Suddenly a loud thunder is heard and both of you look out the foggy window at the same time. The sky is even darker now, angrily pouring rain like it’s the end of the earth. The coffee shop is emptier. Everyone outside your bubble must’ve realized that it was no longer safe to be out in the streets. But here you two are. Letting time pass by, enjoying each others presence even if it’s kinda weird. Kinda sad after all these months apart.
Jungkook knows it’s time to act. Step up and do what he was planning since he left home. Can’t bring himself to. Is too scared you will say no. Too scared you will let him down again.
“I think I should get going.” you say softly wrapping up what is left of the cookie and putting it on your bag over the counter. “The weather is getting worst.”
“Want a ride home?” Jungkook quickly says before he looses the sudden courage. Sees you're taken aback so he continues, “I know you won’t be able to catch an uber or taxi right now.”
You still wonder a little bit. Jungkook’s anxiety is bubbling up again as he waits your answer. Why can’t you accept a simple offer? You can’t stand the thought of being around him? Do you hate him? Perhaps you don’t want him in your life ever again. You want to stay like this. Just be somebody that he used to know.
And that’s what scares him the most.
“I brought an umbrella” you finally say. Jungkook frowns. Knows you have no umbrella with you, he would’ve seen it by now.
He puffs. Knows it’s bullshit, but won’t call it. “Right. Suit yourself.” Then he gets up, forgets his full coffee by the counter, now cold. He feels fucking cold too. Already regrets coming to this stupid cafe, in this stupid weather, for no stupid reason. He takes his sweatshirt off and puts it over his head so the rain won’t get to him this time. Opens the door.
“Jungkook! Wait!” you suddenly say. “I actually didn’t.” you say pouty, coming up to him.
He doesn’t say anything. Just takes his sweatshirt, puts it over your head instead. He was wearing his taegeuk warriors jersey underneath it, will definitely get soacked but can’t bring himself to care at all. Just cares about you. Holds the glass door for you just like old times. You look up at him with your big doll eyes and he can’t do anything but look back. It’s like you want to talk through them. He wonders what’s going through your pretty little head right now. Probably overthinking too much, just like he does.
“C’mon," he softly says "Let’s get you home.”
yayyy there it goes! my first ff ever i'm so happy <3 this was supposed to be an oneshot but i got carried away and wrote more than i expected so i had to cut it off hehe
also, please be aware that english is not my native language so i’m sorry if there’s any typos 🥹
i'll upload part 2 soon! if you want to be tagged pls comment under the post :) thanks for reading xx
jungkook is a virgin, a big one, and believes he might not be all that interested in the act. but as he finds himself stuck with you at taehyung’s summerhouse — his body seems to be reacting strangely to yours.
⭒ pairings. jeon jungkook x female reader
⭒ word count. ish 18k
⭒ tags & warnings. summerlovin, smut, virgin!koo, sub!koo, switch!koo, i’m afraid of flagging so the smut will be sort of like unwrapping a gift on christmas day lmao (but just know there’s a creampie on the way)
notes. this is just a written fantasy i came up with as i rewatched ays season one. notice the shirt jungkook is wearing during the smut… does it sound like a familiar look? mehehe. also, i love me a subby koo. if he ain’t pussydrunk i don’t want him. wrote this in two days so eat up this slop girlies <3 also banner by @voyter who is my wife.
It has been twenty years. Jungkook has been alive for twenty years. And during these twenty years, he has never once had sex. Not even once. This cannot be stressed enough. Twenty years. Two whole decades.
But, oh well — there’s a tiny, insignificant detail that might be the reason behind this. Jungkook believes he might not be interested in sex, like at all.
In his defense, it has been twenty years. Twenty years of Jungkook not being all too excited about the thought of touching someone of the opposite sex. He once asked his close friend Jimin (who had dabbled a bit), if this might mean that he’s gay. Jimin responded with a snicker that left Jungkook at unease, but followed it up by telling him it might just be the strange way Jungkook’s brain moves.
Because his brain is strange. He’s a restless boy, an overachiever, excelling at everything he does. And Jungkook does do everything. He plays the piano, he cooks, he dances, he paints, he writes, he plays video games, and he can’t keep still for more than a minute. And for some reason, he seems to be interested in every single hobby except for the one that involves sweaty bodies merging together after a night out.
He got a handjob once. That’s something, at least.
It was while he was still in high school, this very lovely girl named Hana, who he had been partnered up with for a science project. She invited him over to her house, while her parents were still home, and jumped his bones the second the door to her bedroom was shut.
But Jungkook couldn’t get a hard on. Because he was actually thinking of the science project the entire time. Who in their right mind, as a seventeen year old boy, would be worrying about school while getting their belt unbuckled by a beautiful girl?
She told her girlfriends about his softie, something that lead them to believe he was gay too.
And after that mishap, he has not only been extremely nervous about putting himself in a similar position again — but he has simply stopped seeking out girls. He goes to clubs with his friends, joins whatever party he’s invited to, but he never really takes notice of the girls that are around.
Even though he can appreciate their beauty, he just doesn’t feel like he has it in him to do anything about it. It’s too nerve wracking. Also, he looks very intimidating.
Tall, dark, handsome, tattooed — everything the girls on Love Island and Single’s Inferno believe they’re looking for. But when it comes to it, they sheep out. He just kind of looks like a guy who could break their hearts with a snap of his fingers. So everything seems to be working against him.
But that’s alright. He doesn’t care about that. He has better things to tend to. Like the trip he’s going on with Taehyung. To his parents’ beach house, which strangely enough also has a pool.
It’s just for them to blow off some steam, to cool off before the semester starts up again. They haven’t invited anyone else, and they’re just staying there for a long weekend — Thursday through Sunday. A very relaxed vacation. A place for them to swim, cook food, drink some beers, play video games.
But as Jungkook and Taehyung pull up into the driveway, the idyllic, solo-weekend is shattered instantly. For Jungkook, at least.
“What the fuck—that’s Sara’s car.” Taehyung tries to mask the grin on his face as he notices Jungkook’s obvious disappointment. His poker-face isn’t all that great, and he actually manages to roll his eyes upon seeing Taehyung’s girlfriend’s shiny Mercedes.
Taehyung bumps his shoulder, parking the car next to his girlfriend’s. “Hey, don’t sulk. She’s probably just here to steal some of my mom’s wine again.”
“You let her do that?” Jungkook huffs, sinking further into his seat, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He just can’t help it but pout.
With a jerk of his neck, Taehyung tongues the corner of his mouth. “With tits like that I let her do anything.”
They throw their bags over their shoulders before heading for the entrance door, stopping in their tracks as they hear muffled laughter coming from the other side of the house. The side where the outdoor pool is located.
Jungkook throws his head back, obviously frustrated that there’s even more people here.
Instead of taking the front door, they snake around the house, walk across the grass until they reach the pale cobblestone that surrounds the pool, the dining table, the sun-beds.
There stands Sara, drenched in water from head to toe, only wearing a tiny bikini. Her feet are just about to lift from the ground and head for the pool, but as she sees Taehyung, they take on a new journey. She shrieks, running over to her boyfriend, throwing herself over his shoulders without caring if his shirt gets drenched. Jungkook catches some of the droplets too, landing in his eyes. He pouts yet again.
“Finally—oh my god we’ve been waiting forever!” she cries out, lathering him in kisses. Jungkook thinks he might vomit. Also, who’s ‘we’?
Taehyung places both hands on her waist, letting his bag slip from his shoulder. He laughs for a minute, kissing her back, before he looks at her with a mildly confused expression. “That’s so… Sara sorry, wha—what are you doing here?”
As Sara answers, Jungkook hears something moving in the water. He turns his head away from the disgusting couple, and lets his eyes fall to the silhouette getting out of the pool.
His lips part the moment he sees your face.
You let two hands run over your head, brushing back the wet hair while stepping up on the steal ladder. The fabric of your bikini clings to your wet, glistening skin, and the line between your legs has itched its way dangerously deep inside your cheeks.
Jungkook gulps. For some reason. His eyes widen. For some reason.
He has met numerous of Sara’s friends. A bunch of times, actually. But he can’t seem to recognize you. Maybe that’s because his eyes are now fixated on your breasts, how full they look in that tight bikini — but he’s still sure that he has never seen you before.
When was the last time he saw a girl in such little clothing? Except for in porn, or Sara just now. He can’t seem to remember it. And if he can’t remember it, it might’ve just not made such an impression on him.
But you did. For some reason.
Sara calls out your name as you step onto the stone and walk towards the three others. You have such a pretty name, it’s so fitting. Jungkook’s ears go red. Why do they do that? Has that ever happened before?
His tattooed hand, the one free of his bag, goes to the piercings in his ear. He fiddles with them as he watches you walk across the floor, not really sure where to look. He options for your feet, something that might not make him feel all that weird inside.
Your toenails are neatly polished, trimmed. And they look so tiny against the stone. Compared to your body, they look proportional — of course — but they look so tiny now. And cold… why do you have so many goosebumps spread across your skin? Are you cold?
“Come meet my boyfriend and his boyfriend!”
Jungkook snaps his head back to glower at Sara. She giggles in return, slapping a lazy palm over his chest. As the hand meets his t-shirt, his skin, he suddenly realizes how sensitive he has grown. Sensitive to touch. He clears his throat, looking down at his own feet as he listens to the wet sound of your feet padding across the floor.
You stretch out a hand, confidently, making Jungkook’s eyes dart up again.
“Nice to meet you.”
Is that a real voice? It sounds like an audio recording, one of those that supposedly put you to sleep. He looks at your hand with big eyes, almost like he’s from a different planet and has never encountered this kind of greeting before. So you giggle.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You retract it, tilting your head to the side. “You don’t wanna touch me now that I’m all wet, do you?”
Jesus fucking christ.
Apparently, as told by Sara, you were her new roommate in college. The two of you had gotten close before even starting the new semester, meeting up during summer break to start your new friendship. Which is when Sara had the brilliant idea of bringing you along to Taehyung’s summer house.
She knew all about Jungkook and her boyfriend’s plan — that they would stay until Sunday — which just seemed even more perfect. The perfect opportunity to wiggle you into her life, her social circle. If Taehyung loved you, Sara would love you even more.
Jungkook wasn’t taken into consideration here. He is quite introverted, has a hard time making new friends, but Taehyung is so comfortable around him. And if Taehyung is comfortable, if he is already in a good mood around his best friend — he will for sure take a liking to you.
What she didn’t expect was for Jungkook to like you the most. This came as a shook for him too.
He packs out his bag, settling in his room, dragging stressed hands through his hair, pulling the fingers down to his mullet. His tongue finds his lip ring, playing with it as he debates ripping the strands straight out of his scalp.
He’s already so nervous around girls. Sara is different, but you are not. You just might be the prime example. Confident. Beautiful.
Why does his mind keep replaying your wet figure? Your gentle voice? How the bikini hugged you, how your waist curved inwards so beautifully, then outwards where your soft hips started.
The sight wrecked the poor boy.
It doesn’t help that you’re the one cooking dinner tonight.
He tried to avoid you when him and Taehyung got settled, and he managed. But it’s hard when he runs into you again, in the kitchen. When you stand there, cutting up pieces of pork ribs, wearing a see through, white gown. A new bikini underneath.
“I just—I’m just gonna grab a bottle.”
Jungkook reaches for the fridge, pulling the handle towards him while ignoring your eyes. It’s an easy task, as you actually don’t look at him and continue on with your cooking.
“Would you grab me one too?” you ask casually, still not looking at him.
He nods in response, realizing you can’t actually see it, but being too flustered to say yes out loud.
There’s only one bottle of water in the fridge. Except for the big Fiji one which has to be Sara’s. Jungkook gulps.
Without saying anything, he grabs the bottle and hands it to you. You’re occupied, he sees that, so he just places it on the counter, right by the cutting board.
As he’s about to leave, maybe go drink water from the pool, you speak again.
“Not thirsty after all?”
Jungkook closes a fist, opens it again, flexes his fingers. His mouth dries up, suddenly extremely parched.
“That’s alright,” he says simply, almost no volume to his voice. He gulps… again.
“I’m guessing there’s only one bottle—and you’re just being nice.”
Trying to stay cool, Jungkook starts walking away from you. “I’m not thirsty.”
“I only need a sip,” you call out before he’s able to exit the kitchen, still focusing on cutting the pork neatly. “You take the bottle—you’ve had a long drive. But I just need you to open the bottle for me.”
Jungkook thinks he’s about to burst into flames. It might be the heat, but the air-con is working perfectly fine. So he’s afraid it might be you. His back is facing you, and yours his. You’re not even looking at each other, but Jungkook can’t bring himself to answer. And he doesn’t want to force the bottle on you. And he is thirsty.
So he turns, walks back over to the counter where you stand so prettily, eyes immediately falling to your back. To your ass. The polkadot print of your bikini, which shines through your gown. How your cheeks look so plump, how they look so round, like a good handful each.
It feels invasive. He looks away, eyes going to the plastic water bottle.
“Could you open it?” you ask again, showing him a flat palm. “I have pork on my hands.”
Jungkook prays to god that you won’t ask him to feed you the water as well. But he does as you ask, without saying a word. He screws the lid off, handing you the uncapped bottle.
You take it with your free hand, the plastic looking so much smaller in your grip than in his. Your fingers wrap around it, and you bring the opening to your mouth. Surely you’ll waterfall it.
But you don’t. Your lips wrap around the bottle, touching it directly.
And Jungkook fucking dies. Inside, that is. His inner organs seem to be rearranging, his stomach turning. And a new, strange sensation appears. Similar to the one he gets while watching… porn.
Your throat bobs, your lips are closed perfectly around the opened cap, and you only take a few quick sips. No water drips down your chin, not like in cheap pornos. But as you let the bottle slip from you, you let out a sigh. A sigh that is music in Jungkook’s ears. Better than any home-made movie he has watched.
When finished, you put the pad of your middle finger to your lips, dabbing away what might be excess water. There is none, so Jungkook feels you’re doing this just to mess with him. You’re probably not, but it feels like it.
“Thanks,” you say as you hand him the bottle, and you look up at him. When your eyes meet his, Jungkook drowns. He tries looking away, but for some reason he can’t. Your eyes are shimmering, big and soft. Jungkook flicks his gaze back and forth from them, not knowing where exactly he’s supposed to be looking. He hasn’t even grabbed the bottle yet.
“Your turn,” you continue, waving the bottle in front of him. “Drink up.”
For you, he would do anything.
Jungkook takes the plastic from your hands, wrapping his larger fingers around the bottle. He didn’t brush against your skin, which is a plus, but he kind of wishes he did.
You continue looking at him as he takes the bottle in his hand. Expecting him to drink up.
Are your lips usually this plump, this soft? Do you always speak in this tone? How are you so comfortable wearing such a revealing gown? Is it because you know you look good?
A bit nervously, he puts the bottle to his own lips. He debates waterfalling the water himself, but is afraid you might think he doesn’t want your germs in his system. That’s not at all what this is, and he doesn’t want to come off as rude. So he copies you by wrapping his mouth around the plastic opening, tilting the bottle until water falls down his throat.
Jungkook, for that matter, is sloppy, and manages to spill. Two measly droplets fall from his mouth and land on his chin, dripping down until they reach his jaw. This is simply because you won’t look away.
It feels inherently sexual, whatever this is, something Jungkook can’t quite grasp. He has never been interested in such activities before, so why does he flush so easily just by knowing he’s under your eyes? He can feel his neck burning up with heat, his ears grow red. So he calls it quits, deciding to swallow one last time.
“Sara told me you’re single.”
Jungkook chokes on the water.
Jesus christ, why are you asking him this question? Why is that important? Why right now, as he coughs up the lost water particles in his throat, eyes widening with shock. He looks like a lost sheep.
Your lips curls into a small, almost unnoticeable smile. But Jungkook sees it, he notices everything you do, every small detail. This detail has him blushing. He removes the bottle from his mouth, coughs one last time and wipes away the droplets from his jaw. His tattooed hand moves from his chin, down his neck, trying to feel how warm it his. The pulse underneath his skin is spiking.
With a deep inhale he answers, still a bit sore. “Uh—yeah, uh I am.”
You huff out a breath. “I’d never guess.”
Returning to your cooking, you look away from him. You continue cutting the pork, tilting your head to the side. Like this would be a normal ending to your conversation.
Jungkook has no idea what he’s supposed to say. Does he look like the type of guy to be in a relationship? No one has ever told him that, they usually tell him the opposite. That he looks like the type of guy to never settle. That’s before getting to know him, of course. But upon first glance, yes — Jungkook does look like a hit and run type of guy. So what do you mean?
He asks you just that. “Huhwhatwhy?”
The words tumble out of him, desperate to receive an explanation.
“I don’t know—you seem sweet,” you answer, finishing the last piece of pork. You reach for the cabinet above your head, stretching tall on your tippy toes. As you do, the fabric of your gown clings to your skin, making it easier for Jungkook to see the soft shape of your ass through the see-through dress. He looks away immediately, trying to focus on your words instead. You continue while opening the cabinet, grabbing for a bottle of olive oil. “Like the kind of guy who has a girlfriend that’s a lot to handle.”
This analogy is completely foreign to Jungkook — he has no idea what it’s supposed to mean. Also, you just met him today, exchanged only a few words with him. How do you know he’s sweet? Are you just a good judge of character?
Jungkook rolls his shoulders once before answering, stretching his neck. “Oh, okay.”
There’s nothing more to add to that. He has no idea what you’re talking about. He has no idea what you mean. And he doesn’t want to tangle himself into an unknown world right now, he’s too hot, too sweaty, a bit too worked up. Because upon seeing the outline — the beautiful outline of your ass — there has grown a problem in Jungkook’s black, cargo shorts. The fabric is pliant enough to give it away. He has experienced boners in public before, but only the ones explained by hormones and puberty. The ones who arrive unannounced, without any encouragement. Boners are now usually something he only gets while watching porn, something he does maybe twice a week. Maybe once. So sporting a hard-on while standing next to a girl in little to no clothing seems like a violation, and he wants to bolt away as fast as possible.
He turns, ready to walk off.
“Does the description fit?”
Your words still him in an instant. His back is facing you again, but he hears a shift in your stance, knows you’ve turned around from the counter. He hears your gown move. Fuck. If he turns around, you’ll see the obvious tent in his shorts. The large bulge. Jesus christ.
He places his hands in his pockets, stretches the fabric out, looks down to check if it’s still visible. It is, but not as prominent as before. So he decides to turn one last time.
When he’s facing you, he gulps. The gown has slipped just slightly off one of your shoulders, revealing your collarbones and sun-warmed skin. You’re leaning against the counter now, crossing one ankle over the other while tilting your head to the side. Jungkook’s growing problem seems to be screaming in his shorts.
Trying not to seem like a total idiot, he answers before the silence stretches further. “I don’t know.”
“Mhm.” You nod, tilting your head to the other side. A single piece of hair falls from behind your ear and gets in your face, tickling your cheek. You don’t bother brushing it away, instead you take in Jungkook’s state of flush. His wide eyes, his tense posture.
“I think a girl like that would suit you, Jungkook.”
Jungkook went to bed before the others. They got a bit too drunk, and Jungkook kept looking at your tits in that gown, in that bikini. He was maybe too a bit drunk.
But when you suggested they would all go for a swim in the pool, get a feel of the summer night breeze, Jungkook was quick to depart. He told Taehyung he was a bit tired from all the food — food coma — and that he wanted a good night’s sleep after a long day of travel. No one really questioned this, and Jungkook was free to leave the table.
The walls are thin. The window is too, apparently. He can hear the others splashing around in the pool, shrieking, playing, laughing.
Most of all — he can hear your laughter. He hears it so well. Your giggle, the one that sounds like tinkling glass. He tries tuning out every sound, trying to wiggle himself to sleep, tossing and turning. But that only highlights your laugher, your voice. Jungkook swears he can hear your exact footsteps on the cobblestone. Because your feet are so small. They make the cutest sound.
While listening to you guys, he imagines what it looks like outside. When you’re playing, swimming.
The image of you getting out of the pool, greeting him, pops back into Jungkook’s mind. The bikini clinging to your skin, disappearing between the slit of your ass, your perfect round cheeks. The slightest bounce of your breasts when you walked over to him.
You don’t wanna touch me now that I’m all wet, do you?
Fuck. The problem is back.
He has no idea what you do to him, but it hurts. It feels like he’s about to explode… down there. The skin feels too tight over him, the muscle is pulsating. He tries to ignore it, turn to his side, block out your voice, your laughter from outside. But as he turns, it hurts again. So he tries thinking of anything else.
His own apartment. He’s in his own apartment. His mind drifts to the kitchen, for some reason.
Okay. Food is good. If he’s hungry, that’s usually all he can think of. Whenever he plans to jerk off, he sometimes has to stop mid act because he feels a rumbling in his stomach. Food comes first.
So he thinks of cooking. At home, in his kitchen. Standing there, boiling water on the stove. Waiting until the bubbles appear. He turns to the side, looking for the packet of ramyeon. But as his hand reaches out, it doesn’t go to the packet of noodles — it goes to the curve of your ass.
Why are you there?
In that see-through gown. In that same bikini underneath. You’re just standing there, watching him cook. And you let him feel you, let his large palm meet your ass, not even flinching or making a sound, like it’s completely normal. Actually, you push your ass back further, leaning down on the counter now, just watching the water boil.
His hand moves around, just feeling you. And it’s marvelous. Your skin is so plump, so soft, even through the gown.
Fuck — he’s back to square one. Why are you there, in his mind, while he’s actively trying to keep you out? Maybe it’s because your laughter is so much more prominent than the two others. Or maybe you’ve just managed to completely occupy him, never letting him think of anything else.
There’s only one thing that will make this problem disappear, and Jungkook grits his teeth while thinking about it. He has only ever jerked off to porn, never to anyone he knows in real life. Again, it feels too invasive.
But he knows porn won’t work this time. No, it’s you he thinks of, you who’s making him feel like this.
Jungkook’s arm drapes over his eyes as he slips the other hand in his boxers, almost as if that would block out the embarrassment of doing something like this. He lets his fingers trace the length of him, feeling how sensitive he has grown. He teases his own cock while listening to your laughter, eyes still buried where his forearm meets his bicep. Finally, he wraps his full hand around himself.
Pressing his lips together, he tries to imagine what you look like right now.
You’re still in that bikini. Maybe you’re sitting on the edge of the pool with your legs in the water. Maybe your hair is wet again, slicked back like earlier. Maybe you’re leaning forward while talking, elbows on your knees, looking up at the others with those soft eyes. Or maybe you’re leaning back, with straight arms, your stomach moving in and out as you breathe.
The vision causes Jungkook to squeeze his cock lightly, letting a breathy moan escape his lips. Your hips, your ass, spread out so nicely when you sit by the pool. The bikini only covers your most treasured parts. But he can imagine them anyways.
What you would look like with him. You are already so small compared to him. Wouldn’t it look bizarre if you were with him? Your small hands on him, his big hands on you. His long fingers removing your thong, kissing your skin while on his knees. He would kiss you everywhere. Leave you red with bitemarks.
Jungkook’s stomach tightens. Pleasure flows through him, and sweat starts to appear in his hairline. He bites down on the piercing in his lip, thumbing the slit of his cock to spread the beading precum over his head. The tip has grown so sensitive that he can’t help but gasp once touching it. He twists himself at the base, squeezing tightly as he pumps himself to the image of you.
Your perky breasts. How your nipples might look. How he would love to make them go hard, to see goosebumps appear on your skin. How he would love to kiss down on them, bite them, lick them, suck until you pulled on his hair. How your fingers would feel in his hair.
When thinking of pleasuring you, Jungkook has no idea how to do so, but imagines himself more experienced. Just in this dream scenario.
He knows porn is nothing to compare the real deal with, he has been told so numerous of times. But for now, it will do.
Jungkook sets a steady pace, whining as he feels his balls start to tighten.
If he had his hands on you, he would never let go. He wishes he knew how to make you beg. That he could kiss you, spread you open, give your most precious spot a harsh suck until stars appeared in your eyelids. That he could lap at you like a parched animal, even sink his tongue deep inside you, swirl it around.
You don’t wanna touch me now that I’m all wet, do you?
Oh, how he would love to touch you. How he would love to feel your wetness. Have his fingers in it, his tongue in it, bury his cock so deep in your wetness that you’d beg him to stop. You would look so beautiful with your eyes rolled back into your skull.
Imagining the noises you would make has him sweating more than ever before. He gasps when he imagines you gasping, he whines when he imagines you would do so. It’s a synchronized performance he’s playing out, and when he imagines your climax — he breaks in half.
Thick ropes of cum, more than he has ever produced before, spurt heavy out of his cock, leaving his boxers a white, sticky mess. He throws his head back against the headboard, shutting his eyes completely as he strokes himself through the orgasm. Jungkook feels he has just entered the gates of heaven. Never before in his life has he climaxed this hard before. An otherworldly experience — that’s what this was.
When Jungkook comes down from his high, he looks down at himself, at his ruined boxers, grimacing at the amount of cum.
That will have to do, he thinks. Tomorrow is Friday, meaning there is only really two days left. He can survive two days with you, but only at a distance. He’ll have to make sure you won’t rile him up again. He’ll have to avoid you.
Jungkook hates couples.
He hates Taehyng and he hates Sara. Why do couples need so much alone time? This was supposed to be Taehyung and Jungkook’s trip. So why is he being pushed away?
Better question — why is he being pushed into interactions with you?
“I’m just gonna fuck her in the pool—so can’t you guys go grocery shopping or something?” Taehyung begs, mirroring his friend’s pout.
Jungkook scoffs, crosses his arms over his chest while avoiding Taehyung’s eyes, acting like a sulky little kid. “No, I want to stay here.”
“But that’s not your decision, Kook.” Taehyung curls his lips together, speaking in a whisper. “This is my house—and I want to fuck my girlfriend in the pool.”
Fuck off.
Jungkook fastens his seatbelt, trying to ignore the scent of your perfume. It’s hard. Lilac, lilies, something like that.
You’re trying to pick out a song on your phone after connecting it to Bluetooth, mumbling under your breath. You can’t seem to land on anything, but you’ve forbidden Jungkook from pulling out of the driveway before you’ve found the perfect song. “What songs do you like, then?”
Everything about you makes Jungkook embarrassed after last night. He can’t even dare to look you in the eyes, let alone hear your voice. This shopping trip will be awful.
“Everything,” Jungkook answers simply, tapping the steering wheel with his index finger.
“Come on—just name a song!”
“Uh…” He has apparently forgotten every song ever. “Bennie And The Jets.”
The sound of tinkling glass reappears. The sweet sound of you giggling. “Alright—Bennie And The Jets it is.”
As you type the embarrassing song request into your phone, Jungkook starts driving. The car rolls down the long gravel path towards the main road, and he desperately tries ignoring your scent.
You smell like flowers, warm skin, summer. Every time the wind shifts through the cracked window, it carries your scent straight to him. It’s almost enough to make him puke. Or maybe cry. He dares to look at you for just a second. Look at the way your hair blows in the wind, how you play with a few strands between your fingertips. The fabric of your sundress moving in waves with the wind, just like your hair. Your gentle, slender neck, the soft flesh there. How he would love to feel you.
Jungkook hates grocery shopping now too, apparently. Walmart is too big, there are too many options. Sara has sent over a list for you guys to check off, but it’s so long that Jungkook is suspecting they’re just stalling you while the two of them have sloppy intercourse in the outdoors pool.
And your dress is too pretty. You’re too pretty. What the hell is Jungkook supposed to do?
He pushes the cart while walking behind you, trying not to stare too much. But the dress sways across your thighs, makes him think. His ears go red again.
“—And I want chocolate covered raspberries. And those cola lollipops. And some popcorn. And Ben&Jerry’s—” you continue. Your list is quite long, and it seems you’ve steered away from what Sara wants you guys to buy.
As Jungkook pushes along, he only thinks to himself: Anything for you.
“—Also I forgot my wallet.”
Again, he thinks: Anything for you.
You make him carry all the bags. It’s heavy, but Jungkook is strong. You bought an insane amount of groceries for such a small person (with Jungkook’s money, that is). He wonders how you’re planning to get it all down. If you’re evil enough, you bought all this just to watch Jungkook’s neck pop with veins as he carried it over the parking lot.
As you get to the car, you don’t even bother opening the trunk for him. You simply wait for him to unlock the door before you slip inside, hissing as the black seat has heated up.
You seem sweet. Like the kind of guy who has a girlfriend that’s a lot to handle.
Sure enough, you are a lot to handle.
The two of you haven’t been away for that long, probably about thirty minutes, but Jungkook hopes Taehuyng and Sara might be done with their session by the time you arrive. But as Jungkook gets in the car, you stop him before he turns the engine on.
“We have to go see the view point by the beach.”
Get away — Jungkook thinks — I don’t have to do anything. He brushes off the hand that you’ve placed on his, starting the engine anyways. Jungkook wants to go home. He wants to listen to music in his room, try to do anything besides thinking of you. You make his whole body warm, and he’s not sure if he likes it.
You gasp, making a grimace laced with disappointment. “You’re so mean!”
“I just wanna go home—I’m not mean.”
“Can’t we just—”
Jungkook cuts you off mid-sentence. “Your ice cream’s gonna melt.”
With a huff of air, you sink further and further into your seat. You don’t even bother putting on the seatbelt. Your eyes fall to the window beside you, ignoring Jungkook. But as Jungkook gives a quick side-eye, he notices how your lips have formed into a pout. How you look just like he did when he sat in that exact spot yesterday, realizing the trip with Taehyung wasn’t a solo one.
He starts driving, trying to not look at you too much. But you seem like you want him to talk, want him to say something, as you keep huffing and puffing out irritated small breaths.
“You’re pouting.”
You don’t answer. So Jungkook tries again, something a bit bolder that makes his heart race.
“You’re a lot to handle.”
A tiny smile appears on your face, but you try masking it by pursing your lips. It doesn’t work all that well, so you cover your mouth with tiny fingers, letting them play with your lips. It’s almost like you want Jungkook to crash the car, because as you fiddle with the plump flesh, Jungkook can’t help but look at it. How plush they look, how glossy. He bets they would feel good on him. Good wrapped around him. Or just against his own lips.
Jungkook’s mouth waters while his thoughts run wild. But as he continues driving, he notices that you still haven’t fastened your seatbelt. You might be sulking, but he can’t have you flying out the window in protest.
Without looking over, keeping his eyes on the road, he reaches over you, grabbing for the buckle. Quickly, he traps you in, securing the belt until he hears a ‘click’.
“How nice of you,” you mock, pitching your voice higher.
He keeps quiet for the rest of the ride. You don’t bother putting on music this time, and just stare at your phone. For some reason, Jungkook worries. He hopes you won’t get sick. That your stomach can handle the car ride as your eyes are glued to the screen. If you feel sick, you should just tell him. He’d pull over. In a heartbeat, actually. But you don’t say a word, so Jungkook doesn’t either.
When you pull into the driveway, Jungkook senses a smile on your face, just a tiny one. It seems like an evil one. So his neck goes red, his ears too.
As the engine shuts down, as Jungkook removes the keys and his belt, you stay still. He looks over at you, wondering, furrowing his brows as you keep looking straight ahead.
“Unbuckle.”
That’s all you say.
Jungkook gathers that you want him to unbuckle your seatbelt. Just like when he trapped you in, but in reverse this time.
He does as you tell him, pressing down until the belt flings open. As you’re freed, you turn in your seat, looking at him with narrow eyes. You skim over his face a couple of times, almost like you’re debating something. Jungkook can’t for the life of him understand what’s going on. His eyes are big and glossy compared to your glowering ones.
“Put your seatbelt on,” you demand, speaking in a low voice.
What are you doing?
There’s something about you that makes it hard for Jungkook to question your words, what you ask of him. So without second thoughts, he simply pulls his own seatbelt back on, staring at you with big wondering eyes the entire time.
You press your lips together, fighting laughter. But your eyes are still fierce, narrow in a way that makes Jungkook’s pulse spike.
“Unbuckle.”
Again.
Jungkook does as you say. With a click the belt pops open again, and Jungkook is still confused. But it’s like clockwork — whatever you say, Jungkook does. Except take you to the view point, apparently. He still doesn’t understand why he drew the line there.
As the belt flings open again, you let out a breath of air, bordering on a demeaning laughter.
“Why are you like that?”
“Like what?” Jungkook asks mindlessly, his voice gentle but breaking at the edges. You rile him up, but not so much now that he can’t take it. There’s more of a thrill to it. Something he can’t quite understand. But again… for some reason — he feels himself growing in his jeans. Horrible timing.
“You do everything I tell you to.” With your next smile, you bear a bit of teeth. You use them to bite down on your bottom lip, just the slightest, letting them bounce back as you release them. They look so soft, so plush.
Jungkook can’t be thinking about that right now. Not with what’s going on in his jeans. He actually can’t be here right now. Thank god the two of you have reached the house. Maybe he can just sit in the car and wait for it to pass, ask you to leave him alone for a minute. But then he would have to watch you walk away, ogle at the way your dress moves softly across your thighs.
That doesn’t seem like a good option either.
“I don’t do that,” he responds, shifting in his seat as he feels his whole body tighten. Maybe it’s the way you speak to him. Or maybe he likes being told what to do? Is that it? He hopes not, as that would be quite embarrassing.
As he shifts, your eyes unfortunately go to his pants. To the bulge that’s growing there. And Jungkook has watched enough porn to know that he’s big. It’s not easy for him to hide an erection, so as your eyes meet his crotch, he gathers you know what’s going on.
You give the bulge a devilish smile. “What’s going on down there?”
The fact that you’re so forward isn’t helping. Goosebumps cover Jungkook’s neck, and he jerks his head to the side giving you a small hiss in response. “Come on…”
“I knew I was right about you!” Your smile grows, and you lean forward a bit, resting a palm on your thigh. Jungkook can’t help but let his eyes follow your hand, where it meets the fabric of your dress. The outline of your thigh.
You giggle again, patting down on yourself almost like you’re clapping. “Jungkook—you’d love a fiery woman!”
This conversation is not happening.
Jungkook goes white, completely white. His face loses all color, and he looks at you with a pair of mortified, black orbs. Why are you so unfazed while talking about this — while Jungkook has an obvious boner in your presence? Because of your presence?
He lets one hand go to the fabric that has tightened around his crotch, trying to cover himself up. Your eyes follow immediately.
“Jungkook, I’m serious—it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you sigh, itching even closer. One of your legs crosses over the other, causing your dress to itch higher up on your thighs. The edge of the skirt is dangerously close to a part Jungkook definitely shouldn’t be watching in this state. Your hands fall into your lap. “If anything—it’s just flattering.”
With a shaky inhale, Jungkook closes his eyes, preparing to tell you off. He lets out your name with the next exhale, even more unsteady than last time. “Can’t we just please go inside?”
“You have to be more open minded.” You don’t pay attention to his erection anymore, instead you lock eyes with him, something that makes Jungkook even more nervous. He blinks over and over again, waiting for the moment to pass. Jungkook doesn’t know what’s more embarrassing — the fact that you’re so forward, or that the bulge in his jeans won’t seem to go down. His entire body tightens, his stomach turning. This is by far the strangest, most uncomfortable feeling he has ever felt.
You tilt your head to the side, lick your lips. “Do you need help, Jungkook?”
What?
I’m sorry — what?
Jungkook freezes. The corners of his eyes start watering, strangely enough. He blinks again, a few times more, trying to piece together the puzzle that is this conversation.
You can’t possibly mean what Jungkook thinks you do. That can’t be right. That would at least mean you’re teasing him, for whatever reason. He hopes you don’t know about what happened last night. That would be all too much. Maybe you can read his mind. That would be a more logical explanation. Anyways — why on earth are you asking him this?
He swallows hard, eyebrows lifting high on his forehead. “H-help?”
The sound of tinkling glass. You smile, and don’t cover it up this time. The one leg crossed over the other nudges Jungkook’s ankle, playfully kicking him. He breathes in a shaky inhale, having grown so sensitive to any kind of touch. Especially yours.
“Your little problem won’t go away on its own.”
Jungkook has tried convincing himself it was all a dream. That what happened in the car didn’t really happen. That he had just imagined it, that his horned-up brain continued to make up unlawful scenarios about you. He tried his hardest. He tried so hard.
But you wouldn’t leave his mind. The image of you looking him up and down, eyes so dark it almost frightened him. He thought he was about to be eaten alive.
Somehow, he wasn’t.
Because after teasing him about his erection for about five minutes, nudging him with your feet, your fingers — you seemingly had enough. Your face went back to normal, you let out a huff of air, and you reached for the door on your side. When you hopped out of the car, you didn’t even look back. You walked away, left Jungkook hard and dumbfounded behind — with a trunk loaded with groceries.
Did you really ask him that? Better yet… were you serious?
You couldn’t possibly be. This is real life, not a porno. It’s not like women throw themselves at boners in real life. They are usually rather put off by them. So why is it that you teased him so much about it, without seeming disgusted?
Had Sara told you something? Or had maybe Taehyung? Jungkook knows Taehyung has a habit of telling girls Jungkook is a virgin. He knows some girls find it cute (it doesn’t happen often, but sometimes). But that’s only when they’re out drinking, usually at a club where Taehyung knows they won’t ever have to see these girls again. So why would he ever tell you such a thing?
After getting back inside, Jungkook practically ran upstairs and into the shower. He couldn’t take a minute more of his suffering, and knew he needed release. So he stripped himself of his sweat drenched clothes, turned the water on until the room filled with steam, and hopped right in.
He came harder than the night before, if that was even possible. His vision wiped out, and he had to whine a loud ‘fuck’ in order to not call out your name. It was maybe the hardest task he had ever carried out in his life. The stream of the water was harsh enough to block out the sounds he was producing, or so he hoped, and he was far away from the others. He saw you run towards the pool area instead of going back inside, and he was certain that both Taehyung and Sara would be sound asleep after their many rounds in the pool.
Jungkook hides in his room after jerking off. He feels absolutely mortified. There was absolutely no reason for him to get a hard-on in the car, you didn’t do anything sexual. Except maybe for that last part. But the thing is — he was hard even before that. So what’s the deal?
When Taehyung comes knocking, asking if he’s up for dinner soon, Jungkook tells him he has caught some kind of cold. Which is a statement Taehyung easily believes as Jungkook quite literally looks like shit.
His bangs stick to his forehead, his mullet sticks to his neck, his eyes are red and his skin is white. It looks like he has got it bad, when in all fairness — he’s just extraordinarily horny… and also very embarrassed.
He tries falling asleep, even though the time only reads seven o’clock. Maybe if he listens to some music, it might help. Grabbing for his phone, he turns to his side and feels a loud rumble in his stomach.
No, god no.
As stated earlier, if Jungkook is hungry — nothing else matters. If his stomach is rumbling, he needs to do something about it. But right now… he can’t. He can still hear the voices coming from downstairs, the three of you laughing and chatting. Exactly what it is that you’re talking about, Jungkook can’t hear, but he knows you’re laughing. He knows you’re having a good time.
He wishes he was able to make you laugh like that. You only do so when he’s sporting a full one, apparently.
Why won’t you guys just please go to bed? Jungkook has to get down there. Make himself some food. He has to.
Tossing and turning in bed, his mind runs wild. Which is when he remembers something horrible, something so extremely unfortunate.
He forgot the groceries in the car.
Jungkook bolts upright in bed, almost gasping out loud at the realization. He forgot the fucking groceries. They are still in the car, all of them. Your snacks, your drinks, your ice cream. God — your ice cream. It’s all probably melted by now.
He throws the blanket off himself and scrambles out of bed. Rushing around his room, he yanks open multiple drawers, grabbing the first pieces of clothing he can find. A blue t-shirt with a yellow crab on it, and a pair of grey cargo shorts. He pulls them on hastily, nearly getting his foot stuck in the fabric.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
If you see the melted ice cream, you’ll be crushed. You’ll be so disappointed. All he had to do was carry the bags inside. He couldn’t even do that. You would be so sad if you found out your ice cream had been standing outside, the milk getting spoiled. You wouldn’t be able to eat it anymore. How sad you would be.
When fully dressed, he stumbles into a pair of Puma slippers and tip toes toward his door, opening it just enough to peek out into the hallway. The house is dim, looks almost asleep, but he can still hear your laughter from downstairs.
Is he supposed to climb out the window? Or how will he go about this?
Without really thinking more of it, he makes sure to tread as lightly as possible, not making any sound as he escapes his room. He makes his way down the stairs, trying to ignore the small creaks the wood makes. If he’s lucky, you’re all drunk by now, and woozy enough to look past the man lurking around ‘undetected’ behind them.
Finally making it to the last step, he crouches down. The main entrance is so close, but it’s too risky — the dining area is right by. So he options for the terrace door, the one that leads to the pool.
Carefully, he shifts his weight and begins creeping across the living room floor. Jungkook is as careful as a soldier crossing a field full of land mines, knowing that an awkward bump-in would be too much for him now. He moves slowly enough to keep most of the creaking quiet, but the boards under his slippers give in a few times. Not loud enough for you guys to take notice of it though, thankfully.
He doesn’t dare look toward the sound of your laughter. He doesn’t know where you’re seated. You could be facing him, or maybe not. Either way, if you turn your head at any given moment, you’ll spot him immediately — half crouched, sneaking across the living room like a criminal. Jungkook gathers none of you have spotted him yet, as you would point it out. So he carries on until he reaches the door, opening it just a tad, making just enough room for his large frame to slip through the crack.
Finally being out in the open, away from the ongoing dinner inside, Jungkook hurries down the path that leads from the terrace to the driveway. His eyes find Taehyung’s car — it sits exactly where he left it, untouched and unmoved, still in the driveway. Seeing it almost gives him war flashbacks from earlier, and he tries his best blocking out the memory of your foot against his leg. How it brushed against him only for a second, then once again. The peak of his demise.
When he reaches the car, he pops the trunk open immediately, grimacing the second it lifts.
The bags have spilled, groceries lie scattered around. A mess, really, one he can thank none other than himself for.
He clicks his tongue. “Shit.”
His eyes go to the spilling reminders of your ice cream, the milky fluid having leaked out of its container. Poking at it once, he feels how soft it is, how the carton has fogged up and gone all wet. Fuck, it has been sitting out in the heat for too long.
Jungkook sighs miserably and starts pulling the groceries into a pile, shoving them back into the grocery bags one by one. He grabs the plastic once fully packed and starts carefully stacking the sachets on the pavement beside him so he’s able to carry it all in one trip.
And in the midst of all this, Jungkook is so focused on salvaging the groceries that he doesn’t even hear the footsteps approaching behind him. But he can’t help but flinch when a sudden voice cuts through his concentration.
“Boo!”
Taken by surprise, Jungkook lets out a strangled yelp while his body jerks forward, nearly headbutting the open trunk as he whips around. He recognizes your voice before even laying eyes on you.
You stand cross armed before him, still in the same sundress from before, looking at him with an unimpressed mine. The startled sound he just produced wasn’t a exclaim for the history books, something he can read from just the look on your face. After examining the flush on his face, your eyes drop to the grocery bags at his feet.
Jungkook scratches the back of his head nervously. “Jesus, you scared me.”
“Ah, I gathered that,” you respond, nodding in a belittling way with your eyebrows high on your forehead. A short laughter breaks from you as you probably play back the previous look on his face. “What the hell are you doing anyways?”
“Uh the—” Jungkook stops himself. He’ll probably have to answer why he’s not at dinner, either. Why he told Taehyung he was sick, while still prancing around outside in only a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Nothing anyone with a real cold would do. “I forgot the bags—in the car—earlier today.”
You purse your lips while nodding. Jungkook can’t help but notice the goosebumps on your skin. The straps on your dress are tiny, you’ve got no real fabric protecting you from the cold. He wishes he never set foot outside, so that you wouldn’t have to stand outside shivering because of him. On that note — why exactly are you here…?
“So you’re lurking around late at night in order to save my candies?”
Great point you’re making, because it does sound stupid. But Jungkook would go to even further lengths to salvage what you hold dear to your heart — and since you seemed to care so much about your lollipops, your ice cream, your chips, he felt lurking around was needed. Although this might sound strange to you, since Jungkook has only known you for less than two days. So maybe he should keep quiet.
“I didn’t want to disturb you guys,” he ultimately answers, rocking back and forth trying to keep himself from bursting into flames in your presence.
A giggle escapes you. “You know—you could always join us…? Eat dinner with us? Maybe not hide out in your room?”
Fuck, how did you know he was hiding?
“It’s—I’ve caught a cold.” His voice is fragile, words bordering on a whisper. “I’m not hiding.”
“Pfft, come on,” you scoff, letting your head loll back — baring your neck to Jungkook. He can feel his mouth start watering, salivating at the view in front of him. Your soft skin, where your neck meets your chest, your collarbones, your gentle cleavage in that dress as you’ve crossed your arms tightly across your breasts. He snaps out of it the moment you straighten your neck, looking back at him with serious eyes. “Jungkook, I told you—you don’t have to be embarrassed. Not around me, anyways.”
Now, this is exactly why Jungkook has been hiding. Why are you always so forward, why can’t you just let him suffer in peace?
His ears go red immediately, and before he manages to answer, he swallows hard, trying to make himself look at serious and tough as possible. It’s hard for Jungkook, as he suffers from a condition called big, black puppy eyes.
“I’m not embarrassed,” he lies, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The bags around him stand still, the trunk stays open, and there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s trapped.
“Mhm, okay.” Your eyes skim over his body, locking with the yellow crab on his t-shirt. How embarrassing. The shirt is tighter than what he would usually wear, so he suddenly feels like he’s on display. He flexes his stomach (force of habit), hoping he might look good under your eyes. You smile in response. “Okay—so you say you’re not embarrassed. But you’re nervous.”
Jungkook can’t even manage to get a single word or sound out before you let your arms fall from their crossed position. As they slip, you take a step forward, breathing in a deep breath. Your chest rises, the outline of your soft cleavage making a strong appearance, before it falls again.
With you walking towards him, with you in that dress, Jungkook’s eyes go wild. His eyes flick over your face, your chest, your stomach, before falling to your feet.
Mother of god.
You’re barefoot.
“Could you…?” you ask, eyes going to the bags by Jungkook’s feet.
He doesn’t even think twice. With nervous kicks, he shoves the bags out of the way, the contents spilling out and landing scattered around in the driveway. At least — it clears your path. Which is all Jungkook cares for.
“And the—”
Jungkook won’t let you finish your sentence. Before you reach him, he hurriedly stretches his arm out, aiming for the trunk and shutting it close. It almost hits his head, but he’s quick enough to move away, holding your eyes the entire time.
You stop maybe two feet before him, looking over at Jungkook as he nervously leans his back against the trunk. A smile spread across your face.
“What do you study?”
Huh?
Jungkook parts his lips, but no sound comes out. He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting, but it most certainly wasn’t small-talk. Not when it looks like you’re about to eat him alive.
“Uh… I—cybersecurity,” he finally manages. His eyes can’t help but flick over every single part of you, trying to ignore your bare feet. He has never before found feet attractive — he doesn’t find feet attractive. So what on earth is it that you do to him?
“Do you like it?”
“Well—yeah, it’s alright.”
You step forward, watching his every reaction. His eyes dart down to yours as you close in on him. Still, you continue talking — like nothing’s going on. “Are you good with computers?”
Jungkook’s breath hitches at he feels your breath against his skin. None of your body parts are touching yet, your knees haven’t even met his. Yet, he feels like he might fold in half where he stands. His arms shoot out behind him, bracing himself on the polished trunk, veins popping underneath his skin as he tries to restrain himself.
“Yea-uh,” his voice cracks halfway through the word. Trying to redeem himself, he coughs once, looking up into the air above him. He breathes out, trying to steady himself. “I’d say so.”
Your eyes are glued to him, and he even feels you huffing out a laugh against him. And suddenly, he feels skin brush against his knee. Your thigh. Your thigh still hidden behind your soft dress. Without meaning to, he gasps.
“You play video games?”
He can only nod, still looking up, trying to keep his cool. He might just come off even more nervous. But he can’t help it. The fabric of his shorts, his boxers, start tightening around his crotch as he feels himself growing. By how close you are, he gathers you’ll soon be able to feel it too.
Tilting your head, you lean into him, rising on your tippy toes in order to reach the skin by his ear. “Think you could teach me once?”
“Uh—of course. Yeah—I could do th—”
Jungkook feels a pair of soft lips against his neck before he can finish speaking.
His entire body shudders, and the bulge in his pants continues to rise. Your lips part once, taking his skin in deeper, letting the wet part of your mouth reach him. It’s so incredibly soft, so tender, that Jungkook almost feels his stomach grow sick. Involuntarily, he lets out a whine, and your name follows.
“W-what are you doing?”
You shush him softly, tracing his neck with your kisses, your plush lips welcoming his salty skin. Jungkook thinks his knees might buckle when he hears you give a small moan, bracing his arms behind him, trying to dig his fingernails into the car’s polish. There’s no use.
Letting a breathy laugh leave you, you answer his question with a low voice. “I’m just paying in advance.”
“H-huh?”
The kisses start moving upwards, and you let one of your hands find his lap. Jungkook flinches, his thighs twitching, alongside the growing cock hidden away in his pants. You purr against his skin, soft lips meeting his jaw as you stretch taller.
“You’re gonna teach me how to play—aren’t you?”
Jungkook wasn’t really paying attention to your meaningless small-talk — but he’ll never deny you anything. However, he knows you’re not being serious. He feels you’re egging him on, teasing him, riling him up.
None of that matters now that your lips are on him. They are even softer than he had imagined, and now that it’s finally happening, it feels like his cock is about to explode in his boxers. He’s so hard it’s starting to hurt, the length of him twitching every time your small hand squeezes his thigh through the shorts’ fabric.
Fuck this — he has you now.
In no less than a second, his hands are on you. He gives up on his quest for the stars, where he stands looking up at the sky trying to avoid you. It has been twenty fucking years, and Jungkook is yet to have had a good kiss. A great fucking kiss.
His hands find your waist, knead the supple flesh there before he pulls you in. Your lips crash together, and he shivers at the sound of your surprised gasp. Whining into your mouth, Jungkook lets one hand find the small of your back while the other still holds onto your waist.
You feel so unbelievably soft in his grip, so small and tender. The force of Jungkook’s kiss, the un-expectancy of it has you tumbling forwards, falling into Jungkook’s arms. But you still manage to assert some dominance, pushing on his knees in order to part them before you slip between his legs with ease.
Holy fuck — he can feel you between his legs. You’re in between his legs. Pressing against him, pushing yourself further into him.
“Ohh—fuck,” Jungkook whines as you roll your hips softly, simply letting him know you’re there. And he knows alright, the bulge in his pants twitches and pulsates at the feel of you. Impatient and so extremely touch-deprived, Jungkook pushes his tongue against your lips in order to part them. You let him slip in easily, the muscle rolling into your mouth messily.
The two of you gasp, moan, whine into the wet kisses, going at each other like starved animals. Although the only starved one here is him.
“Jungkook?” you ask in the midst of a kiss, such a soft voice that has Jungkook’s breath hitching in response.
“Mm-hm?” He whines as you press against him once again, the bulge in his pants brushing against your crotch. It feels so fucking good — nothing he has ever felt before. It’s even better than jerking off, even though all his clothes are still on. Why is that? Are you a witch?
One of your hands find Jungkook’s cheek, brushing a gentle thumb against his skin. You give him a tiny peck before retracting, staring up at his big, glistening, wondering eyes.
“I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Jesus christ.
This either means: 1) you’re nasty as shit or: 2) you know he’s a virgin.
He prays to god it’s not the ladder. Or maybe… he does. Then it would explain why he might not be so good to you, if he might do something horrible or something you don’t like. He has no idea.
His eyes grow wider, if possible, and he wets his lips twice, wishing for more kisses. “It’s okay—I’m okay—I promise.”
The words roll off his tongue, or rather tumble out his mouth, and he eagerly leans in to kiss you again. He has felt nothing like it, how soft your lips are, how sweet you taste. He could kiss you forever, every day, all the time.
Your tinkling laughter reappears, and you back away from his kiss. Jungkook is stronger, and still keeps you close to him, but he can’t seem to reach your mouth. So he whines yet again.
“Shh—Jungkook, slow down—I’m not going anywhere,” you say in between your giggles, pressing both palms flat against his chest. Your cheeks flush the moment you feel his plump skin under your hands, something Jungkook can’t help but love.
“Then kiss me—come on!”
You reach out for his erection, cupping a palm over the bulge in his pants and squeezing tight. All the air in Jungkook’s lungs is punched out, and he lets go of your waist. His hand shoots up, and he bites down on the back of his hand, trying to suppress an embarrassing moan. The others are still inside, after all. Only a few walls away. They could slip out and see the two of you, just as easily as you did just a few minutes ago.
The palm rubs over his length as you lock eyes with him, even though Jungkook keeps trying to shut them. You lean further into him, purr when Jungkook digs his soft fingernails into the small of your back. He’s unbelievably hard.
“We have to take it slow, Jungkook—if it’s your first.”
There it is. Jungkook clenches his eyes shut, a harsh rumble escaping from his throat as his cock twitches in your grip. He can feel himself spilling in his boxers, leaking from the tip. He knows he’ll come harder than ever before if you continue, but he can’t wiggle out of your grip. It feels to good. Instead, he embarrassingly enough starts slowly rutting into your palm.
You click your tongue and lean into Jungkook, your breath fanning his neck. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“S-so good,” Jungkook breathes, throwing his head back and leaning heavier against the trunk. His hips thrust into your hand, and you haven’t even wrapped yourself around him. It’s just a tease, but a tease that feels so good Jungkook is about to start levitating.
“You know what would feel better, Kookie?”
Oh my fucking god. Jungkook sees white, the sound of the sugary nickname on your lips causing him to tremble in your grip. He pulls you tighter against him with the hand on your back, searching for your lips. When they meet, he shamelessly moans into your mouth, rolling his tongue against yours, biting and sucking down on your bottom lip.
You gasp and purr against him, cupping his erection even harder as you start applying slow strokes to him. He feels heavy in your palm, thick and long.
Breathing hot against his lips, you kitten-lick his mouth, pulling away to tell him sweet nothings, words that leave Jungkook white. “Wouldn’t it feel better to have my mouth on you, Kookie?”
Absolutely not. No way in hell. Nuh-uh.
Jungkook shudders only hearing you suggest it. Of course it would feel better — he’d fuck your throat so hard you wouldn’t be able to speak for days. But he can’t, he knows he can’t. He’d come so embarrassingly fast that he’d ruin everything. On top of that, he wouldn’t be able to fuck you. To finally get laid.
He shakes his head against your kiss, whining when you tease the tip of his cock through the shorts. You let your thumb find the slit of him, rubbing around it before pressing your palm hot over the bulge again.
“No?” you ask, biting down on his bottom lip. “You wouldn’t want that? You wouldn’t want my lips around your cock? Wouldn’t want me to choke on you? You’re big, Kookie. You wouldn’t want your big cock in my pretty little mouth? Would it be too much?”
Mother of god. Jungkook feels like a dog hearing all his favorite buzzwords. You’re just throwing them out there, hoping for a reaction.
Trying not to lose his composure, or the tiny bit of it he had left, he lets go of your back. Both hands come behind him to rest on the truck, breathing out deeply as you continue lathering him with kisses. Just like him, you switch positions. Your hand lets go of his erection, but you replace the stimulation by grinding against his crotch. Jungkook’s breath hitches, and he shuts his eyes hard, actively trying not to come in his shorts. It seems fucking impossible, the combination of your kisses and the way you press against his cock has stars dancing in his eyelids.
“You don’t want that, Kookie?” you breathe out seductively, both hands coming to play with his mullet. “You don’t want your cock in my mouth?”
“N-yes! But—” he stutters, trembling while you rub yourself on him. Both his boxers and shorts are about to turn very wet, the precum leaking out of him ruining both fabrics. “Can’t. I can’t.”
You pout, but kiss him nonetheless. Your tongues move in perfect synchronization, and Jungkook thinks this might be all he needs. Until something gives him away. Because as your moans die down, another sound breaks through — the sound of Jungkook’s stomach rumbling.
Fuck that’s embarrassing.
He wines, leaning further back, but that only invites you to press yourself harder against his cock. And as you notice his talkative stomach, you giggle.
“Hungry, Kookie?”
God yes. God, he’s hungry. He’s so hungry he could die. But he’s determined to do nothing about it. He wants to stay here, with you, kiss you forever. Feel you rub yourself on him, feel your fingers in his hair. Have your soft lips on his, have your sweet, sweet tongue deep in his mouth.
But he is hungry, there’s no denying that. His stomach continues growling, causing you to scoff out teasing laughs every single time. But that’s only until Jungkook feel you smile devilishly against his kisses. And Jungkook — a fond watcher of porn — thinks he might know what you’re up to.
You slide one hand from the back of his neck, finger finding his jugular, and you slowly wrap them around his throat — very lightly. Tickling his skin. And as you retreat from the kiss, you lock eyes with Jungkook.
“How hungry are you—exactly?”
Jungkook waists no fucking time now. He has seen this in porn too many times to want to wait. He’s fucking starving, and by what he has seen on the numerous raunchy sites, there’s only one thing that can ease his cravings.
Suddenly, his hands find the back of your thighs, and with ease — he lifts you from the ground.
You give a quiet squeal, pressing your lips harder against his, letting your body melt with his. He drinks is the feeling of your spread legs wrapped around him, how the dress has risen up your thighs, almost exposing your panties to him. There’s almost nothing concealing you from him, and as he has you in his arms, Jungkook feels his cock grow even more.
He turns with you wrapped around him, backing off from the trunk in order to switch places with you. As your ass meets the cool car polish, you sigh against his kiss, and the sound makes it hard for Jungkook to let go of you. He wishes he could carry you around everywhere, all the time. That you would maybe give up on walking, let him keep you in his arms for him to work as a personal carrier.
But he lets you go nonetheless, pushing himself in between your legs while his hands move up your back, one finding rest on the back of your neck while the other caresses the space between your shoulder blades.
“Wow,” you tease, giving him one last peck before baring your neck for Jungkook to access the sweet skin there. He latches onto it immediately, kissing and sucking on your jugular. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Jungkook.”
“Mhm,” he hums while lathering you in wet kisses, lips pressing down on a particular spot that has you squirming. The hand between your shoulder blades roams further, slips down your back and makes its way to your thighs. He feels your bare skin for the first time, instinctively rutting forward, his erection pressing hot and heavy against your panties. “Oh fuck.”
Jungkook grows impatient, and in a hurry, he takes ahold of the hem of your dress, dragging it upwards until your ass is bare. You help with a compliant lift of your hips. Your bare cheeks are revealed, and Jungkook immediately lets a big palm find the firm flesh there, kneading it while still rolling his hips into your crotch.
Both his boxers and shorts are almost ruined with his precum, the constant leak. He knows he can’t keep going like this — that he will break if this goes on for any longer. And since his stomach has been growling, since he is so hungry, he lets go of your neck and starts kissing lower.
“Fuck—Kookie—are you sure?” you breathe as Jungkook starts applying kisses to your breasts. He’s easily distracted, and once his lips meet the soft flesh of your cleavage, he almost forgets the path he has taken on. Jungkook bites down on one of your breasts, licking and kissing the mark in order to ease the small amount of pain. “Ah—oh my god.”
It seems like you can’t take it anymore, and you help Jungkook without him even asking. You let your head loll back as your hands go to the waistband of your panties. Hooking your fingers into the fabric, you start wiggling out of the fabric. Jungkook groans against your neck as you start undressing yourself, taking a small step back in order for you to rid yourself of your underwear.
The fabric bunches around your ankles, and Jungkook hastily takes ahold of the hem — ripping it off you in an instant.
“Oh my god I need you so bad,” he whines as he lets go of your neck with a slick pop, looking proudly at the red mark he has left behind. That will stay. Jungkook just marked you — for everyone to see. Holy fuck.
You only sigh in respond, but you do it so prettily. Jungkook’s brain tangles, and he no longer sees straight. He forgets all about rutting into you like an animal in heat, and suddenly drops to his knees without warning. Jungkook shoves you further onto the trunk, the sound of it squeaky and humorous, but not enough for him to snap out of his trance.
When met with the new view before him, he whimpers. There’s no other way to explain it — Jungkook whimpers at the sight of your bare cunt.
Porn can’t compare, Jungkook knows this now. God why has he held himself back for so long, why hasn’t he been met with the real deal before now? Or is it just you? Is it just you and your perfect, soft, wet, glittering pussy? Jungkook has nothing to compare this to (other than the on-screen vaginas he has seen before), but he can confidently say this is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
He releases a moan that carries your name, eyebrows lifting high on his forehead. And what really seals the deal is when he feels your fingers in his hair. He looks up at you with big eyes, almost breaking in half when he sees the flush on your cheeks, how you press your lips together in order not to let out any sound.
Jungkook realizes, while sitting down on his knees in front of your parted legs and dripping cunt, that he has no idea how to do this. He’s a fast learner, and he usually excels at everything he tries — but this is human anatomy. What if he’s awful? What if you don’t like it? He would never want to disappoint you, and he would most of all want you to feel good — to make you cry, scream, beg for him to keep going, beg for him to stop.
His eyes give away all his questions before he even has to ask. You lick down on your lips, caressing his scalp as your fingers play with his soft hair.
“Kookie, just—” you say in between a breath, almost like you know exactly what’s going on inside his head. “Just start out with a kiss—okay?”
Okay, he can do that. He gives you one single nod, his eyes tripling in size before he looks back down on the meal before him. Before actually kissing it, he moves his hand, letting his knuckles drag experimentally through your wetness.
To his surprise, you twitch before him, letting out a whimper. And even more surprising is what Jungkook sees before him — the white slick that leaks from you. His lips part instinctively, and his mouth waters. Is this all for him? Is he doing this to you?
Jungkook leans in, feeling your fingers tighten in his hair as he closes in on your wetness. And slowly, he closes his eyes, parts his lips even further, and kisses the soft, beautiful nub that crowns your mound.
Holy fuck.
Your hips jerk upwards, but there’s no use. Jungkook has just gotten the taste of something life altering. His eyes open, still kissing down on your clit, and like clockwork — he plants another kiss there.
“Oh my—fuck,” you moan as you breathe out, fist closing around a big chunk of Jungkook’s silky hair.
Is this what he has been missing out on this entire time? Is he a fucking idiot? Is this what he has been giving up — and for what? To play video games, get drunk and sing karaoke with his friends, refusing to get laid? What a fucking dumb idiot he is.
Now that he’s here, he gets drunk off you. Absolutely hammered.
His hands push both your knees to the side, spreading you further apart, and he dives in yet again. This time, he does exactly like when kissing you — rolling his tongue out, this time letting it catch in your clit. He realizes this might not be such a poor method, as your writhe before him whenever he nudges the wet nub.
“Jesus—Jungkook, right there.”
Dingdingding — jackpot.
He flattens his tongue, delving down and lapping at you like a parched animal. His hands spread apart your legs, fingertips digging into the supple flesh of your thighs as he goes — to — town.
Nothing has ever tasted this good before. Your juices have Jungkook’s mind going hazy, his thoughts wiping out. His eyebrows curl together low on his forehead, concentrating to the fullest as he eats you out with the sole purpose of his own pleasure. Because it tastes so fucking good. Where have you been all this time?
Your clit twitches on his tongue, and you try scooting away from his mouth, but Jungkook’s strong hands pin you down against the car.
A moan gets caught in your throat. “Mrph—Jungkook, oh my god—you’re doing s-so good.”
The praise flies right above Jungkook’s head. He can’t hear or see shit. He wishes he could do what all the guys do in porn — lock eyes with you and map out every single one of your reactions, your pretty facial expressions. But he’s too far gone to be doing all that. You taste too fucking good.
More and more juices keep leaking from you, covering his tongue as he messily eats away at you. He drags his tongue lower, gathering your slick purely because of its sweet taste, but suddenly gets a feel of a pulsating, sopping hole.
He moans against your pussy at the new discovery, mapping out the hole with the tip of his tongue. It keeps spasming, keeps pulsating, and Jungkook’s expression only grows more concentrated when experimentally dipping the tip of his tongue into your wet center.
Your head lolls back in pleasure, and you tug on Jungkook’s hair. You’re so incredibly taken aback by Jungkook’s skillful use of tongue, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he slowly lets the thick muscle sink into your core. “Yes—yes, Jungkook—oh my god.”
Oh my god is right — because with where Jungkook’s tongue is buried now, he can taste all of you. His brows furrow even further, similar to the expression he makes when eating great food, and he slowly lets his tongue curl inside you, mapping out every single inch of your insides. It’s all so wet, so warm, and your sweet slick covers his entire face. His chin is dripping with your juices, and he’s nearly suffocating on your cunt. But it’s all good — Jungkook would happily choke and die here.
As Jungkook retracts his tongue, you jump at the sensation. But he needs more, he needs to savor the taste of you. His arms move, curling around your thighs, and he shoves you against his face — his tongue entering you once again as his nose presses against your clit.
“Kookie—please—” you cry out, causing Jungkook’s eyes to search for yours, afraid he might’ve done something wrong. And as your eyes meet, Jungkook’s cock jumps in his shorts.
The corner of your eyes, the top of your sweet cheeks, are covered in tears. Wet, glittering, beautiful tears that Jungkook wishes he could lick away. But his tongue might be a bit busy at the moment. Jungkook waits for you to catch your breath, continue speaking, and he watches the way your belly moves up and down, how you’re panting.
You caress his scalp again, his hair, twirling it around in your grip. The look on your face is nothing short of pleading, and Jungkook believes he can come right here and now.
“Please—” you continue. “Fuck me with your tongue. Fuck me s-so good.”
Point taken.
Jungkook waits no more time, always following orders, and starts doing as told — fucking you dumb with his tongue.
It retracts, pushes back in, repeat — repeat. When diving back in, he buries his big nose right onto your pretty clit, shaking his head a bit just to make your thighs shake. He loves when your thighs shake. He wants more of it. And they shake so beautifully, spasm so perfectly, whenever he rubs against your highpoint. So thinking no more of it, he presses a thumb against it, flicking over the sensitive area until you can do no more but cry out his name into the summer night.
He wants you to break. Wants you to feel as helpless as he has been feeling for the past days. He wants you trembling on his tongue. And if the sounds you are producing are anything to go by — he’s almost there.
Once feeling your thighs clamping around his head, his hands go back to pulling you further apart for him, and Jungkook’s tongue again finds your clit. The muscle has gone all slick and wet, more than before, and he uses it to repeatedly flick over the nub until you writhe against his face.
“Fuck I’m gonna—” you start, breathing heavily as Jungkook won’t give up on stimulating your clit. He uses only the tip of his tongue, flicking fast over it, causing you to tug on his hair. “Oh my god please don’t stop!”
He won’t stop — he’s not fucking brain dead. He’s hungry, starving, loving the sweet, perfect taste of you. And trying to down it even further, he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it in order to drink you up completely. His tongue rolls with the suction, working over the nub until you can’t take it anymore. He lets go only once, in order to come up for air and gasp, but he quickly delves in again.
You break in half.
Your whole body locks, and even as Jungkook keeps you spread open for him, your thighs try clamping around him. You clench your fist in his hair, the other hand slamming down on the trunk, and you call out his name in a row of beautiful moans.
As you come, Jungkook loses it completely. It’s the most wonderful thing he has ever experienced, and as you spasm in his grip, on his tongue, he just continues sucking. He won’t give this up — he wouldn’t give this taste up for anything in the world. So Jungkook sucks, moans, pants, acting out on pure instinct as you fall apart for him.
But you try getting him to ease up, try pushing him away — something Jungkook won’t have.
“Jungkook—fuck, stop—oh my god,” you say between moans, head lolling back in pleasure filled pain. One of your feet come up to Jungkook’s shoulder, desperately trying to kick him off. Your back arches, and you try and try and try, but Jungkook won’t let up.
He knows you like this — knows you love it. Because why else would your core keep pulsating, clenching around nothing, producing more sweet juice for Jungkook to lap at?
“Please, Kookie—for fucks sake, s-stop.”
You yank his head back with the fist curled up in his hair, causing Jungkook to finally give your clit a rest, hissing as you’ve hurt his scalp.
As he looks up at you, finds your eyes, he gasps. The tears have now fallen completely, covered your entire face, some small droplets still creasing in the corners of your eyes. You look so pretty when you’re fucked out. How is that even possible?
His chest moves up and down as he finally comes up for air, arms still wrapped around your thighs. When drinking in the state of you, he starts worrying the tears might be a bad thing, that he hurt you. That you kicked him off because he hurt you — and he never meant to do that. He would never, ever hurt you.
The words tumble out of his mouth. “Wha—what—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry did I hurt you?”
Still trying to catch your breath, you thankfully give him a smile. You ease the hand tangled in his hair and let it move to his mullet. “Awh—aw no, you’re so sweet,” you say, caressing him as he looks up at you like a lost puppy. “It’s just—it’s sensitive. That’s just how it is for girls. For everyone, Kookie. You did nothing wrong. You did so—so good.”
Jungkook lets out a big sigh, suddenly feeling that his chin is starting to grow cold. He let’s the back of his hand meet the skin there, noticing how slick it is, and wipes it off at once.
“Okay, that’s good. I’m happy I did good,” he answers awkwardly, now unsure of where to put his hands. He lets them find rest on his knees, rubbing down on them while his eyes drown in yours.
You tilt your head to the side, give him a comforting smile and reach for him with grabby hands. “Look—come here.”
He does as told, rising to his feet and lets your hands find his soft cheeks. You pull him in for a kiss, quick and playful pecks that move from his lips, to his chin, to his jaw.
“You’re a mess now, Jungkook.”
“It’s okay—I kinda like it,” he says in a whisper, closing his eyes in pure bliss as your kisses move further down, finding his neck.
You’re sensitive. You just told him you’re sensitive. That all girls are — even boys. So his hopes drop just a tiny bit.
Maybe he won’t get laid tonight, maybe that will have to wait. It might be sad, but Jungkook at least got a taste of something borderline perfect. He got to drink you in, make you cry. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it. Maybe he can ask to do this every day. Wouldn’t you like that? It’s at least his new favorite thing ever, or at least top three.
As his thoughts run wild, his breath suddenly leaves him.
Because you push yourself further into him, all the while you’re kissing and licking down on his neck, tongue swirling over his Adam’s apple, feeling the way it bobs when Jungkook swallows hard at the new sensation. The feel of your bare, sopping pussy pressing ever so gently over his still hard and clothed cock.
Jungkook has never been this hard in his life. He bets his balls have turned blue, maybe even purple.
He gives your name in a low breath, “We don’t—ah—we don’t have to…” You grind into him once more, a moan getting caught in his throat.
“Jungkook, take off those shorts now.”
Holy fuck this is happening. Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck.
Wait — aren’t you sensitive? Whatever that means.
Jungkook doesn’t care right now, he wants to feel you. Correction — he wants to fuck you. Deep. Fuck you until Taehyung and Sara can hear, until they rush out to see why you’re screaming, see if you’re being attacked or killed, only to find out you have Jungkook’s cock shoved so deep inside you that your stomach shows the outline of him. Until you can’t fucking think, speak or walk.
Something like that, at least.
Anyways, Jungkook spends no more than two seconds in his ruined shorts. He pulls them off so hurriedly that you can’t help but laugh. There’s really no time to take notice of the wet patch in his Calvin Klein’s as he pulls them down just as past as the pants. Both stay bunched on his thighs, just enough for his cock to spring free.
When it does, when he’s bared to you, a sound nothing short of a gasp leaves you.
He’s thick, long, big — and most of all leaking. The tip of him has gone dark red, flushed and angry, precum seeping from his slit every so often. And upon seeing him, your mouth waters — and you’re quite literally gagged.
“Okay… alright—wow.” You tuck loose strands of hair behind your ears, your cheeks growing warmer by the second.
Jungkook takes this the wrong way, suddenly a bit embarrassed by how hard he is. “Uh, yeah—well, sorry it’s just—I’ve never—”
“Fuck Kookie—you’re so big.”
Oh. Oh, that’s why your jaw is slacking. Jungkook can’t help but smile, his embarrassment turning into pride. He feels snug as a bug, actually. He can live with this. A pretty girl just gasped at the size of him.
“You’re gonna have to take it slow, okay Kookie? You think you can do that for me?” you ask with a gentle voice, bracing your arms behind you on the trunk as you spread your legs again, now even further to accommodate the size of him.
Jungkook nods fast and a lot. Okay, he’ll be careful. He’ll take it slow. No problem.
You’re still so wet, you still look so sweet, and Jungkook could possibly come just by looking at your sopping cunt. But that’s what porn is for. He has the real deal now, and he has to bury himself inside you by yesterday.
Taking a single step forward, Jungkook reaches for his cock, but is pleasantly surprised that your smaller hand takes his place.
He uncontrollably whines at the feel, your grip gentle but commanding, wrapping around the girth of him in order to angle his hard on directly to your entrance. You tease for a bit, letting the leaking head of him just get a feel of you first.
“Oh my fuck holy fuck,” Jungkook gasps, even more precum slipping out of him as you drag the tip through your puffy folds, letting it catch in your clit. That last part has even you moaning, eyebrows creasing as your jaw goes slack.
“Fuck—feels so good, Kookie.”
“Yeah?” he asks in an embarrassingly high pitch, eyes locking with how his cock slips through your wetness. He leans further forward, both hands going to your waist, caressing you before finding shelter on your ass. Jungkook grabs two handfuls of your flesh and starts kneading, his cock almost exploding when you slowly drag it through your pussy once again. “Ah—yeah? Feels good?”
“Feels so good Jungkook, just—just take it slow, okay?”
Fuck okay, okay he has to take it slow — he needs to take it slow. He can’t come right away, he just can’t. That’ll be too embarrassing.
“Okay I’ll take it slow—I’ll be good, I’ll be—I’ll be so good,” Jungkook whines, eyes darting up to search for yours. He drowns in them immediately, how pleading they look, and immediately forgets all about his promise.
He leans in for a deep kiss, and uncontrollably ruts forward, his cock once again sliding through your pussy, this time a bit more awkwardly, a bit messily. You gasp against his lips, but immediately reroute his shaft, pressing the head of him directly against your entrance. And with a deep breath, a wet kiss, Jungkook pushes forward.
Jungkook whines out a deep moan of your name traced upon his lips, a moan that comes from low within his chest, maybe even all the way down from his stomach. He feels every single wet wall of yours pulsating and clenching around his skin — the feeling something he has no way to put into words.
Do people really do this? Do people have access to this daily? Is this what Taehyung and Sara keep doing every single day?
Suddenly, Jungkook wants a girlfriend. Or maybe just to fuck everything. Everyone. Or maybe it’s just you. Maybe it’s just your pussy that has him acting this way. Because there is no fucking way, absolutely no fucking way.
“Jesus—oh my fucking god—feels so fucking good,” Jungkook moans hoarsely, pushing even further in, slowly (as you’ve told him), until he is completely bottomed out. “Ah—holy fuck.”
He buries himself balls deep inside you, his head falling to your shoulder the moment he’s all the way in. You comfort him despite the harsh fit of him inside you, hugging him tightly against your chest while drawing circles with your nails on his muscly back.
Jungkook’s entire body shudders against you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to move even if he tries. But he feels you pulsate around him, and you feel so warm, so plush. He has to move.
You’re so wet he almost slips out of you when retracting, holding onto your ass cheeks for his dear life in order not to come right away. And as he pushes further in, you moan so prettily that he has to shut his eyes. He wishes he could watch what’s happening, look at how your juices covers his abdomen, but he can’t. He just has to pray to every god out there that he won’t come.
“You’re so big baby—mrph—take it slow,” you whimper, placing a kiss on the soft skin behind his ear.
Baby. You called him baby.
Alright that’s it — pound time.
Jungkook moans at the pet-name, retracting from your heat then surging forward, not caring even a bit about taking it slow. Fuck taking it slow — he needs you screaming. Crying again.
And you do, loudly. When Jungkook sets a mean pace, you scream out over his shoulder, burying wet eyes in the crook of his neck. Your whole body jumps with every thrust of Jungkook’s hips, and he lets out animalistic noises every time he feels you clench around him. He might be a bit too big for you — he feels that — as the fit is so unbelievably snug that Jungkook’s vision almost wipes clean out.
Fuck, he has to swallow his moans. He needs to silence himself — focus.
One of the hands squeezing your ass tumbles upwards, searching for your chest. He reaches for the fabric of your dress, happy to find you’re not wearing a bra, and simply just rips. The dress tears, the seams hanging loose across his tattooed fingers — but at least your tit pops out.
Jungkook’s eyes widen. He has never seen such a pretty breast. So perky, round, such a cute nipple. Bite-sized.
He wraps his lips around it without thinking twice and sucks for dear life.
You cry out, biting down on Jungkook’s ear in hopes of something. What it is, neither you or Jungkook knows. But you bite and suck when Jungkook bites and sucks, your moans breaking with every pound that Jungkook’s heavy cock bestows upon you.
“Fu—uu—uuck Jungkook!” you whine, resting your head above Jungkook’s, letting one hand find his hair again. You seem to have a habit of tugging and pulling on his hair — something Jungkook loves. And he loves your pretty tits. He loves the taste of your nipple. He loves the taste of your pussy. He loves your pussy. Maybe he should tell you this?
“Love this fucking pussy,” he mindlessly rambles while biting down on the peak of your tit, sweat dripping from his forehead. Jungkook slams his hips into you, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, but only for a mere second before sliding out — then right back in. If one can get drunk of pussy, Jungkook is exactly that. Pussy-drunk, and heavily that is. His breathing goes ragged, and he thrusts into you like a madman, not even letting you get a single word out. So he fills the silence himself.
“Love this pussy—how tight it is. How tight you feel around my cock. How it fits my cock perfectly, taking me like the slut you are.”
You clench the moment the word slut leaves his mouth.
Jungkook looks up at you, still near your tit, having left your nipple wet with spit. “You like that, huh? Me calling you slut?”
Apparently two can play this game. Jungkook isn’t even allowed to play big-shot for even a minute, as you suddenly pull on his hair, make him meet your eyes and bare his neck for you.
“Awh, that’s cute,” you purr, trying to keep yourself from moaning his name. Jungkook tries stealing glances, searching for a way to ogle at your tits bouncing with the force of his thrusts, but you make him look up at you. “Try not to cum right away, Kookie—can you do that? Even with how wet I am for you? H-how my pussy sucks you in so greedily?”
Your words might be a bit broken, a bit breathy with the way you’re taking his cock — but they send shivers down Jungkook’s spine.
His pace wavers for a second, but he snaps right back into it as he feels his balls tightening. Fuck — what a bad timing to come. He can’t come. Fuck, he can’t look at you, watch you like this. You look so flushed, so unbelievably fucked out. And it’s all because of him — this is his doing.
Jungkook closes his eyes and lets his head loll back, trying to uphold the thrusts but also not spurt into you after only a couple of minutes. But as his neck stretches before you, you lean into him, flinging your arms over his shoulder while whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
“I know you w-wanna cum, Kookie,” you whisper in a seductive tone, moaning so prettily when Jungkook slams into you repeatedly. “Know you wanna cum so bad—fill me up so nice. Have me dripping all over Tae’s car. Wouldn’t you like that? Have your cum so deep inside me, make me cry all over again? Huh, Kookie?”
A load and deep moan rips from Jungkook’s throat, spilling out into the free air above him. He wants to come so bad. He wants to fill you up so nicely. And right now, he can’t exactly think straight. He bets that he’ll be crossed if he looks back at you. So he keeps his head up, jaw slacking as he slams into you again and again and again.
Apparently, that last slam hits a spot you like. A spot you really like. You gasp, choking on a moan, before searching for Jungkook’s lips. Dear mother of god — Jungkook likes that. He likes that very much, he has to hit that spot again.
And he does, again, and again until you cry out into his mouth. All you can produce are long, incoherent rows of his name as Jungkook hits your sweet-spot repeatedly. Fuck, the noises are too good. Your pussy is too tight. Your lips are too soft. And it’s all too much when you suddenly start clenching, gasping for air as your body spasms in Jungkook’s grip. Fuck — your pussy is milking him dry.
With two final, deep thrusts, Jungkook buries his cock to the hilt, a long and rough moan tearing from his throat and spilling into your parted lips. The two of you gasp for air as thick ropes of Jungkook’s cum spills inside of your warm pussy. Now this is the hardest Jungkook has ever climaxed. The spillage just won’t stop, and he continues leaking, white and milky contents seeping out of your spent cunt, covering Jungkook’s abdomen.
He lets his head find your chest, forehead resting against your skin as he catches his breath. As his eyes open, he’s met with the view of his own cum dripping out of your pussy, spilling onto his own cock. Fuck, he fills you up so perfectly. Looks like he’s made to be there.
As the two of you come down from your high, you start caressing Jungkook’s scalp, the back of his neck. It has him shivering, your fingernails long enough to cause a slight tickle.
“Holy shit—th-that was the best thing ever,” he embarrassingly admits, breathing hot against your chest. He suddenly remembers ruining your dress, whining at the sight. “Ah—shit—I’m sorry about your dress—fuck.”
You giggle, finally, after so long he finally hears that beautiful giggle. “That’s all good.” With trembling fingers, you play with his hair, still shuddering after your orgasm. You let out a content hum, breathing through your nose. “You’re so cute.”
“I’m not cute—don’t say that.”
As your fingers move, both your hands come to cup his cheeks. You pull his head off your chest and force him to look you straight in the eyes before planting a soft kiss on his lips. “Unfortunately you are, Jungkook. You are really cute.”
The next kiss is just as soft, and neither of you feel the need to use tongue, to act lustful. It’s just a simple kiss. Just a soft, simple kiss. But Jungkook’s cheeks turn pink, and he shuts his eyes while breathing through his nose, kissing you still.
And there you stay for a while, still messy and locked, with Jungkook’s cock buried inside your warm heat, letting it soften as his cum seeps from your entrance. You’ve been loud enough for Taehyung and Sara to take notice of it — but Jungkook is guessing that they’re good enough friends to not break anything off. Even though you just fucked a girl on the trunk of Taehyung’s car.
That’s a worry for another time.
The worry comes earlier than excepted.
Jungkook slept in his own bed last night — but so did you.
After tearing each other apart on Taehyung’s car, Jungkook offered to carry you inside as your legs had stopped working and your dress was completely ruined. You of course let him do so, stealing tiny kisses from him as he carried you bridal-style all the way to the second floor. But you whined the moment he started walking towards your room, and demanded to sleep in his bed. When Jungkook tried knocking some sense into your head — telling you it would be best if the two of you kept a low profile — you simply laughed in his face.
You slept in his arms the entire night. It was a bit warm (or extremely sweaty, actually) and you tried to push Jungkook away numerous of times, but the attempts were all unsuccessful. Jungkook’s big arms caged you in, and when you tried wiggling away he locked you against his warm body by curling a thick thigh around you.
The sounds he made when sleeping bordered on soft purrs, and he believed he had never been a happier man. He just had sex. He just had sex with a beautiful girl and now she’s sleeping in his bed. He could dance, probably, but he was a bit too tired. So he optioned for the next best thing — falling asleep to your breathing.
But the happy, giddy illusion was all shattered when the door busted open in the morning.
Taehyung stands with fiery eyes in the doorframe, hair wild and everywhere.
He and Sara had apparently went to bed the second you slipped away from the dinner, and fell fast asleep with no worries in mind. They hadn’t even heard the fact that you guys had been fucking like animals outside.
But the problem has creeped up on Taehyung now, as he just went outside into the driveway, ready to take his car for a spin before going to the gym — when he was met with a big, melting stain of old cum on the back of the trunk. As well as a big mess of spilled groceries, wet ice cream seeping into the black and hot tires of his car.
“I hope the two of you had a great time last night, and I’m happy the plan worked, blah blah blah—whatever,” Taehyung hisses, curling his lips inward and jerking his neck. “If that car isn’t cleaned within ten minutes, I’ll castrate Jungkook and send you off to boarding school, miss.”
You apologize immediately, covering yourself with Jungkook’s blanket, looking over at him for any signs of embarrassment, remorse, confusion. But you find none, since Jungkook simply nods, bearing a big, teethy smile.
As Taehyung leaves the room, you turn to Jungkook yet again. He doesn’t seem to have noticed anything weird in Taehyung’s words.
Until he does.
His eyebrows crease low on his forehead, and he turns his head to you slowly. “Uh—plan?”
You let out an awkward giggle, scratching the back of your head. “Okay—don’t be angry with me,” you start, tumbling over your words. “But we kinda planned everything. For me… to you know… sleep with you.”
Mhm. Okay.
Jungkook doesn’t give a fuck at all. Not a single fuck. He just had sex last night. He just had great, fucking, mind-blowing sex. Who cares about Taehyung’s car? Who cares if it was all a plot?
Without even answering, Jungkook leans in with slender eyes, smiling as he kisses you. You on the other hand look confused, not really understanding why he’s not more riled up. You don’t really kiss him back, you just sit still. However, your heart does a weird little flip. Your head tells it to stop, but somehow… it just doesn’t.
And Jungkook keeps his blissful energy, humming contentedly against your lips. The world is all butterflies and rainbows. The world is beautiful, and so are you.
SYNOPSIS. Chan has had a massive crush on you since the day he first saw you. He never thought he’d have a chance with you, since you were so obviously out of his league. But it turns out life has a way of writing the right things with crooked lines.
PARING. Lee Chan x F!Reader
GENRE | TAGS. Oneshot, non idol!au, comedy, fluff, pinning, down bad!chan, acquaintances to lovers, smut.
WC. 20k (sorry)
RATING. Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI).
WARNINGS. Explicit language, alcohol consumption, allusion to use of weed, mentions of cheating, Chan is down bad to the point he is doubting himself, reader has an unspoken noona kink, switch!chan, switch!reader, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), fingering, face sitting, pussy eating, cum eating, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, small hit of voyeurism.
AN. Officially my first Chan fic and I’m SO happy I finally get to post it... hope you love it as much as I loved writing it! Also, since I forgot to say it earlier: this whole fic is based on End Up Here by 5SOS.
🎧 SOUNDTRACK. end up here – 5 seconds of summer; i would – one direction; obviously – mcfly; loverboy – a-wall; best friend – rex orange county; espresso – sabrina carpenter; out of my limit – 5 seconds of summer; shup and dance – walk the moon; heart out – the 1975; intoxicated – the cab; wait – dino.
He knew the exact moment you walked into the apartment. At this point, it was as if he had a sixth sense for your presence, a Y/N sense, if he had to name it.
Not that it was hard to tell when you did, since every face in the room turned the moment you walked in. Most people already knew who you were, and those who didn’t? Well, their expressions made it very clear: they were dying to find out.
There was this energy about you that demanded attention, even when you weren’t trying. It wasn’t just the way you carried yourself—though that certainly played a part—it was the way people gravitated toward you, their eyes lingering, their conversations subtly shifting as if they were waiting for you to say something, to do something.
And he, well, he had always been attuned to it. To you. Even before he truly understood why.
Tonight, when you walked through the doors of his apartment looking absolutely breathtaking, Chan felt his head spin. It could have been the ten shots of tequila he’d been forced to drink after losing some random game against Yeonjun a couple of minutes ago, but he knew it wasn’t.
That was simply the effect you’d had on him since the day he first laid eyes on you during orientation day, two years ago. You had been in charge of welcoming the freshmen to their dorm building, and when you smiled at him like he was the most important guy there, he was a goner.
Of course, he knew you were probably just doing your job as a sophomore, but still, your smile had been stuck in his mind ever since.
“Pathetic,” he heard Seungkwan’s voice, followed by a slap on the back of his head.
Chan barely flinched, too busy pressed against the wall watching you every move as you wave through the crowded room like you owned the place. For him, in a way, you did. You weren’t loud about it, didn’t strut around making a scene, but there was an undeniable pull to you, one that made people shift to make space, one that had them leaning in, hoping for even a sliver of your attention.
And him? He was no better than the rest of them.
He tore his gaze away just long enough to shoot Seungkwan — who was looking at him like he was the saddest excuse for a man to ever exist — a glare. Vernon was right beside him, looking high enough to be in another dimension, and yet, was still wearing the same expression as the eldest of the three.
“What?”
Seungkwan sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. “You look like a lovesick puppy. Again.”
It was no secret to anyone that Lee Chan had a huge, enormous and gigantic crush on you. If he was being honest, by this point, it was a surprise you didn’t know—which he had some doubts—, since he wasn’t exactly very skilled at hiding it.
Not that he was openly hitting on you whenever he had the chance, because that was far from his reality. Very far, really. He had never done so and whenever he had a chance to be near you or participate in the same conversation as you, he would turn just as red as the lipstick you were wearing tonight, not to mention the stuttering he didn’t even know he had.
It was a mess. He was a mess.
Not that he would admit that to Seungkwan, anyway.
Chan scoffed, forcing himself to straighten up. “I do not look like a lovesick puppy.”
Seungkwan snorted. “Yeah, and I’m a backing vocal for Beyoncé.”
“You do,” Vernon stated, deadpanned. “Mingi just asked me if you were okay because, and I quote, ‘Chan looks like he just got hit by a truck.’”
Yeah, he was that obvious.
He watched as Seungkwan tilted his head to the side, nudging him with his elbow. “Chan-ah, are you seriously gonna spend the rest of your college years pining after this girl?”
His face flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration tugging at him. Chan opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Because what was he supposed to say? That he wasn’t pining? That he wasn’t completely, utterly, hopelessly gone for you? Even he wasn’t delusional enough to deny it.
Seungkwan, apparently sensing his internal struggle, let out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s what I thought.”
Chan scowled, lifting his drink to his lips only to hide his face and Vernon chuckled, clearly enjoying the way his younger friend was unraveling under the pressure of their teasing.
“Just go talk to her,” he said, voice slow and lazy. “She doesn’t bite, dude.”
“Easy for you to say,” Chan muttered, his eyes flickering back to you, who were now chatting with your friends in the corner. “She’s your friend.”
Oh yeah, there was also this little detail: you were Vernon’s classmate.
Not only were you both seniors, you were also majoring in the same program, meaning you shared the vast majority of your classes. Chan knew you were in the same study group and that you were paired up for most of the projects, which had led to a friendship that he very much envied.
You might think that having a mutual friend would make things easier for him, but you’d be completely wrong. Soon he discovered that Vernon wasn’t willing to help. Not because he didn’t believe Chan had a chance with you, but because he insisted that Chan should grow a pair and talk to you himself.
Which of course, he had already shown incapability of doing so thousands of times.
Seungkwan clicked his tongue. “You really are pathetic.”
“Hyung—” Chan groaned.
“I mean, come on,” his eldest friend cut him off, trying to finish his point. “You can deadlift three plates but you can’t say one sentence to a girl you like?”
Chan glared at him again. “That is not the same thing.”
“Yeah, one requires actual effort,” Vernon added, scoffing.
By now, he was used to all the teasing from his friends. It didn’t keep him from wanting to strangle them any less though.
Either way, there wasn’t much he could do. It wasn’t just about the amount of courage he had or how much effort he put into it; crushing on you for the last two years had felt like playing a game he was destined to lose. Even though in the deepest desires of his mind he was your boyfriend, that role was already filled by someone much older than him.
A Marine dude, apparently. His name? Chan didn’t care.
Not only was he the luckiest dude on the planet by having you as his girl, he was also tall, strong and a walking definition of everything Chan wasn’t: confident, assertive, and the complete opposite of the shy mess he’d been around you since day one. He would probably kill Chan if he could peek into his brain and see all the dreams he had about you over the years.
The guy also irritated the fuck out of him. Something about his attitude, his hundred tattoos, the fact that he was probably three times his height and the way he marked his territory by walking you to every class, every day. Like, damn, dude, we get it, she’s yours. At least let the rest of us appreciate the divine gift the universe sent us by looking at her.
Every time Chan saw him, he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of the competition. The worst part? You didn’t seem happy with him and everyone knew it. And even though it was clear from every word and every look that you were completely unaware of Chan’s feelings, the thought of you with someone else — someone like him — made his insides twist in ways he didn’t know he could feel.
“She has a boyfriend,” Chan finally said, feeling the bitter taste on the tip of his tongue as he did.
“So?” Seungkwan arched an eyebrow. “I don’t see him here. Do you?”
He directed his last question to Vernon, who just shrugged and shook his head. “Nope.”
Chan swallowed hard, eyes darting toward you again. Sure enough, there was no sign of your boyfriend. Not that he was about to get his hopes up. He had enough self-awareness to know he was probably just grasping at straws, because even if he never existed at all, Chan still wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to walk up to you.
“Look, man,” Seungkwan stared again, breaking through his dark thoughts. “You’ve gotta stop comparing yourself to him. You’re Lee Chan. You have a million things going for you, and besides…” He paused for effect. “You’re way better looking.”
“Thanks for the support,” Chan replied dryly, rolling his eyes.
“Seriously, dude,” Vernon chimed in. “You’re smart, funny, and way more likable than that guy. You just need to show her that.”
Chan sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “It's not that simple, guys.”
“It is that simple,” Seungkwan shot back. “You’re making it complicated.”
Before Chan could argue, the music shifted, the bass thrumming through the floorboards, and a new wave of partygoers stumbled in, laughing and chattering loudly. His attention snapped back to you, just in time to see you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your lips curling into a soft smile at something one of your friends said. The sight alone made his pulse quicken.
Then, as if you could feel his eyes on you, your gaze flickered up and locked onto his.
He froze.
It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t just a glance that skimmed over the room, landing on him by chance. No, this was intentional. You looked at him like you had known he was there all along, like you’d expected to find him in that exact spot, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand and his friends at his side.
And then, as if to send him straight into cardiac arrest, your lips — marked by the most beautiful shade of red he had ever seen — curved into a smile.
For a split second, it felt like the entire world blurred, muffled voices fading into static. Your eyes lingered, holding his in a way that sent a rush of heat down his spine. Then—just as quickly as it happened—, you turned back to your friends, your fingers wrapping around the red cup in your hand and leaving him to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.
He was sure he had just checked off a box on the list of clichés where the lovestruck fool forgets how to breathe. His fingers tightened around the cup in his hand, his heartbeat hammering so loudly he was certain Seungkwan and Vernon could hear it.
Chan looked away just a second before he heard, “She’s coming over,” announced Vernon, and for once, his voice didn’t sound amused. It sounded almost surprised.
He blinked, breaking free from whatever trance he had fallen into. “What?”
Seungkwan’s hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him once. “She. Is. Coming. Over.”
He barely had a second to react before you started making your way through the crowd, weaving between bodies with practiced ease, heading straight toward them. The air in the room seemed to thicken with every step you took in his direction, and though he told himself to stay cool, to not let it show, he knew the battle was already lost. His grip tightened, his pulse a frantic rhythm beneath his skin.
Seungkwan shifted beside him. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he muttered, half under his breath.
“Act normal,” he whispered to himself. Or at least he thought so.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Vernon mumbled.
Chan shot him a glare, but before he could tell his friend to shut the hell up, you were there, standing right in front of him, close enough that he caught the faint scent of your perfume, something so sweet and heady that made his head spin.
“Hello, boys,” you greeted them, your voice light but with a touch of something so soft and delicate that made his breath catch.
Trying to play it cool, Chan swallowed hard as he forced himself to meet your gaze. Up close, you were even more mesmerizing, your eyes alight with something he couldn’t quite place, the corners of your lips curving into the kind of smile that made his stomach flip.
“Hey,” he managed to say collectively with the other two, his voice steadier than he felt.
Beside him, Seungkwan looked like he was barely restraining himself from narrating the entire interaction like he was watching some kind of reality TV show on Netflix: Lee Chan’s Inferno, the live show.
Your eyes flickered between the three of them briefly before settling back on Chan.
“Nice party,” you said, flashing them a smile as you nodded towards the crowd of people scattered around their apartment. “Full house, I’ve been told.”
It was the first party the three of them had thrown since Vernon and Seungkwan became seniors and he a junior. They hadn’t expected it to be a great success, but judging by the number of people in their apartment right at that moment, it seemed they had been wrong.
“Thanks,” they chorused in perfect unison. You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows in curiosity.
“Are you guys okay? What are you drinking?” He knew you weren’t just talking to him, but Chan was pretty sure his soul was leaving his body slowly but surely. “I know for a fact Hansol is just as high as Namsan Tower.”
It wasn’t just that you were standing in front of him, looking every bit like you walked straight out of his dream, it was the way you were looking at him. Like you were actually interested in what he had to say, like he wasn’t just another person in this house, and like you weren’t effortlessly stealing the air from his lungs.
Meanwhile, his brain? Completely fried.
Your laugh—soft, amused and way too pretty—sent something dangerously warm through his chest. You tilted your head to the side, as if you were analyzing his face.
“What’s your name?”
His world seemed to stop for a second.
Even though the two of you weren’t close, or even friends, he was sure you knew his name. I mean, Vernon was one of his best friends. You were Vernon’s friend. You knew his name… right?
This was the worst possible scenario. The girl he had a crush on bigger than the entire Asian continent didn’t know his name? Yeah. The ground could open up and swallow him whole right now, and he wouldn’t even fight it.
This couldn’t be happening.
“You don’t know my name?” He didn’t even know he could finish a whole sentence around you, let alone a question, his voice somehow steady despite the absolute horror pooling in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Seungkwan and Vernon exchanging a surprised and amused look, definitely holding back laughter.
“Oh, I know your name, Channie.” Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. “Just making sure you're still sober enough to remember it.”
Chan felt his face heat up instantly, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over him all at once, brain barely registering the sweet way you said his name. Seungkwan outright cackled, slapping his knee, while Vernon just shook his head with a knowing smirk.
“Oh.” Was all Chan managed to say at first, his brain short-circuiting at the way you looked at him, teasing, confident, completely in control of the situation. “Chan. Lee Chan.”
You tilted your head, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Good.”
Suddenly, Chan was painfully aware of how close you were. Close enough that he could count the faint shimmer of highlight on your cheekbone, see the way your lashes fluttered when your gaze briefly flickered down to his mouth? No. He had to be imagining that. Maybe he had had a little too much tequila. Maybe it was time to put his cup down, go to his bedroom and sleep.
He blinked. Then, realized he had been silent for far too long.
“I—uh—” he started, then immediately hated himself for it. He could already feel the tips of his ears getting hot from how red they possibly were.
“He’s fine,” Seungkwan answered for him. “We’re all fine.”
You just smiled again, that knowing, unreadable smile that sent Chan’s pulse into overdrive. “If you say so.”
Vernon cleared his throat. “So, uh…” he was clearly trying to fill the awkward silence that Chan had created. “Are you having fun?”
“I just got here, actually,” you said, taking a slow sip from your cup. They already knew that, yet they nodded anyway. “But everyone else seems to be having a lot of fun.”
The four of you glanced around the packed apartment, noting also the constant flow of guests coming and going through the front door. Some faces were familiar to Chan, ones he had seen somewhere on campus, while others were completely new. The living room was almost unrecognizable with the couch pushed aside to make room for a dance floor. A mini bar had been set up in one corner with beer and even more booze filled the kitchen for those who wanted specific things.
Everywhere he looked, people were jumping, grinding, kissing, chatting animatedly, smoking and drinking, while plastic cups littered the floor alongside crushed cigarette butts, joints, and scattered snacks trampled underfoot. Chan was so absorbed in your presence that he didn’t even think about the mess he’d eventually have to clean up after the party was over.
The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat and perfume, and honestly, Chan was surprised none of the neighbors had called the police yet. Sure, the homecoming parties that were happening around campus this time of year were always packed, but this one was on another level, and he felt very proud of it.
The music thumped steadily, neon lights casting shifting colors over the crowd. Then Seungkwan threw out another question for you, so casually that Chan almost missed his intention. “Did you come alone?”
“Well, I came with Nayoung and Dahyun,” you replied, shrugging. “But I lost them somewhere by coming here to talk to you guys.”
Seungkwan shot Chan a look—one that screamed don’t mess this up—before turning back to you with a knowing smile. “Ah, so you chose to be here with us instead of running off to find them?”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I guess I did.”
Chan, who had been determinedly sipping his drink to avoid making a fool of himself, nearly choked. His mind latched onto your words like they meant something far deeper than casual conversation.
Seungkwan smirked. “Makes sense. We’re a great company.”
You grinned. “Exactly.”
“So your boyfriend’s…” Vernon trailed off.
“Not here.”
The words slipped out of your mouth like a subtle declaration, and just like that, Chan felt the weight of it. Your boyfriend wasn’t here. For some reason, the confirmation made him feel a little lighter, though he knew that was dangerous territory.
He had no right to feel relieved. You weren’t his, after all.
Seungkwan raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “Really? No boyfriend? That’s new.”
You shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by his teasing tone. “He’s busy with something, I guess.”
You glanced down briefly, scratching behind your ear before your eyes flicked over to Chan again, catching his gaze for a fraction of a second before he quickly looked away, embarrassed by the sudden spike in his heartbeat.
“Ohhh,” Seungkwan dragged out, exchanging another look with Vernon. “So you’re free to enjoy the night however you want.”
You let out a hum, tilting your head slightly as if considering his words. “I suppose so.”
Chan took another sip of his drink, trying to play it cool once again, but his grip was a little too tight around the cup. His mind was running a mile per minute, filled with thoughts he probably shouldn’t be having.
“You seem awfully interested in that drink.” You pointed to his cup, raising a curious eyebrow and shifting your weight to one leg, one hand resting on your hip. “What are you drinking?”
Chan glanced down at the red cup in his hand like he’d never seen it before. In truth, he had no idea what was in it, he’d grabbed it off the counter earlier when someone shoved it at him, too distracted by your presence to care.
“Uh…” He swirled the liquid inside, like that would magically tell him what it was. “Something… alcoholic?”
Seungkwan groaned beside him. “Wow. Smooth.”
You chuckled, the corner of your lips quirking up. “That’s very specific, Channie.”
Chan nearly choked. The way you said his name so casually, so effortlessly, made his brain short-circuit again.
Everything he wished for — right after you, of course — was that he had scientific explanations for the way his body and brain reacted to your actions and words. And even then, maybe it wouldn’t be enough for him.
I mean, Chan was a popular guy. A lot of people knew him around the campus. Hell, he was the current best dancer on the program since Xu Minghao had graduated, packing the school theater every time he performed, and he also wasn’t exactly unknown among girls; he wasn’t particularly proud of it, but he had a reputation.
So why was it that, whenever he was around you, he acted like a complete loser?
It was a case to be studied closely and for days, perhaps years.
Seungkwan, probably sensing that Chan was never going to get a full sentence out at this rate, answered for him. “Tequila. Too much tequila. Yeonjun was bullying him a little.”
At the mention of Yeonjun, you hummed in amusement, your lips pressing together like you were holding back a laugh. Then, without warning, you reached forward and plucked the cup from his hands, bringing it to your lips for a sip. You pulled a slight face at the taste, but to Chan’s absolute horror (and delight), you took another small sip before handing the cup back to him.
“Sounds about right,” you mused, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “And how’s that going for you?”
Chan blinked.
“Oh, you know…” he forced out, voice slightly rougher than intended, “just trying to stay upright.”
It was a miracle. He had managed to form a coherent sentence.
You laughed, and Chan felt like he had just been hit with a wave of relief. The sound was like music to his ears. “Well, that’s an important skill to have.”
Seungkwan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like pathetic, but Chan was too busy trying to figure out if you were just being nice or if there was something more behind your words.
“So…” you mused, drawing out the word as if weighing it in your mind. “You having fun?”
Fun. Right. That was why he was here. “Uh. Yeah. It’s a party, so… yeah.”
You raised an eyebrow. “That convincing, huh?”
Chan cleared his throat, trying to wrest away the heat creeping up his neck. “I mean, yeah. I’m having fun.” He nodded a little too enthusiastically as if trying to convince both of you.
You just hummed, unconvinced, tilting your head just slightly. The way your eyes scanned his face sent his brain into overdrive. Was he being obvious? Did you know?
But before he could embarrass himself further, the speakers erupted with the unmistakable intro of Livin’ On A Prayer by Bon Jovi, and the entire room burst into excited screams. Just like you, who threw your head back and let out a moan of happiness.
Chan was certain he felt his entire body shiver at the sound, his mind drifting to places it definitely shouldn’t. He was pretty sure he was already halfway to living on a prayer.
“I love this song,” you said, eyes lighting up and a smile so radiant it nearly knocked him off his feet.
Two seconds later, and before any of them could say anything, Dahyun called your name from across the room. “Come dance with us.”
You turned your head slightly, offering her a small nod of acknowledgment before looking back at them.
“I have to go.” You pointed with your thumb over your shoulder at your friend like they haven’t seen her there, shattering Chan’s dream of spending more than ten minutes near you. “See you guys around.”
His heart sank a little at your departure, the moment slipping away faster than he could grasp it. He opened his mouth, almost as if to protest, but the words never made it past his lips. He was still fumbling, unsure of what to say or do in this kind of situation.
But then you gave him one last smile—quick, but enough to leave him breathless—and started to turn away. You took a few steps forward, then stopped, turning around and staring directly at him; not at him, Vernon and Seungkwan, just him.
“I love your shirt, by the way.”
And just like that, you were gone, moving through the crowd again, leaving him standing there with his heart pounding and his mind reeling, staring in astonishment at the Kurt Cobain shirt he was wearing.
Seungkwan snorted beside him, pulling him out of his daze. “You’re hopeless.”
Chan, still staring after you, muttered, “I know.”
You had disappeared from the party half an hour ago, using the excuse of heading to the bathroom, only to end up on the balcony of one of the bedrooms with an unlocked door.
To be honest, you weren’t really in the mood for partying tonight, but after Nayoung and Dahyun insisted so much on getting you out of your room, despite your repeated insistence that you weren’t affected at all by the recent events in your life, you eventually agreed to join them.
So far, it had been a lot of fun; you’d danced with your friends, played beer pong and pool with people you didn’t even know and a couple of people you did know. But when everyone decided it was time to start a game of seven minutes in heaven, you knew it was time to get away, especially since the only person you wanted to kiss wasn’t in the circle and was clearly avoiding you, as he always did.
That person was currently somewhere in the living room, probably laughing at something his friends said, or even kissing someone in the coat closet, completely unaware of how much space he took up in your thoughts.
With a sigh, you sat down at the railing, the cool night air a relief against your flushed skin. The music from the party thumped through the walls, muffled but still loud enough to remind you of the chaos inside. You were fine with missing the game, better than sitting there, pretending you wouldn’t feel a pang of jealousy if someone else pulled his name.
That last one, of course, was a scenario you created in your own head where he decided to show up and play just because the universe hated you that much.
You weren’t even sure when it had started, this thing. The way your eyes always searched for him in a crowd, the way your heart did that stupid little skip whenever he smiled at you, especially at times when he didn't seem to realize he was smiling. Maybe it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to make itself known and now was the perfect opportunity for it, considering all circumstances.
Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the door creak open behind you until the warmth of another presence filled the space.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
It was nearly two in the morning when Chan finally decided he’d had enough of the party. You had disappeared a while ago to God-knows-where, and even though your friends were still in the living room playing seven minutes in heaven, he was pretty sure you’d gone home without them. Your boyfriend had probably swung by to pick you up at some point—like he always did—and Chan miraculously hadn't noticed.
All night long, he had watched you from afar, dancing and playing games with his friends. You were laughing with Vernon, teasing Seungkwan, and even giving Yeonjun a hard time. You looked completely at ease, like you belonged there somehow. But every time his gaze lingered on you, he felt that familiar twist in his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly, but the kind of longing that made his chest tighten in a way that hurt.
You were surrounded by his friends, sure, but in his mind, you were still just very much out of reach.
Now, Chan was exhausted, tired of feeling like a failure for not having the courage to approach you, even just to start a conversation. He hadn’t taken Vernon’s advice, hadn’t shown you how much better he could be than your boyfriend. So, instead of dwelling on it any longer, he simply said goodbye to everyone and headed to his bedroom.
After cursing himself for forgetting to lock the door, Chan headed inside, silently thanking the universe that no one was there. Everything was in place, neat and undisturbed, clearly showing it hadn’t been used as a place for a couple to make out, or worse. After finally locking the door behind him, he sat on the edge of the bed, calmly taking off his shoes as he recapped the night in his head.
He sighed, lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Seungkwan was right: this was getting pathetic, really. He had talked to people all night, joked around, even had a decent time despite the chaos around the apartment. But when it came to you, his heart always raced in a way that made him second-guess every single move.
He was such a big fool.
A fool for you, apparently.
For a brief moment, Chan watched as the long curtains that divided the room from the balcony swayed in the wind, revealing a figure sitting on the railing.
When the fabric shifted again, his breath caught in his throat. It was unmistakably you perched on the balcony railing with your legs dangling over the edge, one hand resting casually against your knee. Even under the dim glow from the city lights below, he knew that silhouette by heart. He didn’t know how long you had been out there, but seeing you, calm and distant and seemingly lost in thought, entirely unaware of him, rooted him to the spot.
He hesitated. Again.
The cool night air slipped into the room, sweeping the curtains aside and making them billow like they were inviting him forward. For a brief moment, Chan considered staying put, convincing himself that you probably just needed some space, some quiet time away from the party. But the thought of you sitting out there by yourself pulled at him, tightening something deep in his chest. It felt like the universe was placing a second chance right in front of him, daring him not to waste it this time.
Before he could overthink, before doubt could drag him back down, Chan pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room toward the balcony.
He reached the balcony door quietly, not wanting to startle you. The breeze hit his face as he stepped outside, the sound of music and laughter from the party still faintly echoing in the distance. Chan took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, but it was hard when you were so close, when all it took was one glance to unravel him completely.
You looked like an angel sitting there, and his brain nearly short-circuited when he noticed you were wearing the hoodie he had left on the chair earlier that day.
Chan never really liked people invading his space — especially his room — and even less so when they were uninvited. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have kicked them out on the spot. But this was you. Not only did it not bother him, but he found himself loving the sight of you in his clothes.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
You turned your head at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise at his appearance. “Chan?”
The way your voice sounded when you said his name — disbelieving — made it seem like you were the one wondering if he was real, not the other way around. And he couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Hey,” Chan managed to say, words just loud enough to be heard over the distant music. “Are you alright?”
You nodded, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Just needed a break. Parties aren’t really my thing.”
Chan hesitated for a beat before leaning against the railing beside you. His posture was a little stiff, like even though it was his bedroom, he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to be there, intruding on your moment alone. Yet, somehow, your presence made him and the space feel calmer.
“I get it,” he said quietly, his gaze shifting down to the street below. “I kind of feel the same way sometimes. All the noise, all the people, it’s a lot.”
You chuckled softly, turning slightly toward him. “You? A dance major?”
He really wanted to use this opportunity with you to make a good impression and follow his friends’ advice. But when he looked at you again, his brain went into a tailspin trying to process the way his hoodie looked on you, as if they’d been made for you just as much as for him.
Still, Chan forced himself to get the words out.
“Yeah. Well, dancing is… different,” he admitted, glancing at you with a small, almost sheepish smile. “It’s loud, sure, but it makes sense, you know? It’s the kind of noise I can control.”
You hummed in understanding, swinging your legs slightly. “And parties?”
“Not so much.”
A comfortable silence settled between you, the distant music from the party below blending with the rustling trees. The longer Chan stood beside you, the more his nerves settled, though that didn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest. He had spent so long watching you from a distance, convinced that any moment spent too close would give him away. And yet here you were, wrapped in his hoodie, on his bedroom balcony, as if you belonged there.
Chan opened his mouth, but nothing came out, as usual. He was already surprised that he had managed to form other sentences before, since his brain was still trying to catch up with everything that’s happening.
God, you were standing in his bedroom—his bedroom—at two in the morning.
He couldn’t help but wonder if you had any idea what you did to him with just a small action.
You shifted a bit, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, the breeze tugging at your hair while you analyzed his well-defined profile.
You’d known Chan and his friends long enough to recognize their signature chaos. They moved like a unit, very loud, unfiltered, and unapologetically themselves. Each one matching and amplifying the other’s quirks without a single trace of embarrassment. It was refreshing. Maybe that was why you liked being around them so much; they weren’t like the typical guys you met on this campus.
Every now and then, you’d end up hanging out with one of them. Sometimes it was Vernon, your friend, your classmate, basically unavoidable. Other times it was Seungkwan, who somehow knew everyone and always drifted into whatever group you were in.
Lee Chan, however, was the one you barely ever heard speak. You could never tell if he was always that quiet… or if he just became that way around you. You suspected it was the last one.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” The question left you in a light tone, trying to keep the mood casual, though there was an underlying curiosity in your voice.
Chan laughed under his breath, running a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed but still amused by it. He scrambled for words, anything to not look like a complete idiot. “I—uh. No, I mean, I do. Sometimes. I talk.”
Brilliant! Just brilliant.
For someone who was usually a yapper, he had become an expert at being at a loss for words around you. Before this moment, Chan hoped you wouldn’t notice, but your question showed him that was clearly not the case.
Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. But it wasn’t in a cruel way, not like you were laughing at him. “That’s good to know,” you replied, nodding like you were filing the information away for later.
He couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips, even with the awkwardness hanging in the air. Only this time, it wasn’t heavy. You didn’t make him feel self-conscious. If anything, you made him feel noticed, and something about that sent a slow warmth spreading through him.
“I promise I can carry a conversation most of the time,” he defended himself, shoulders lifting in a small shrug, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Just… not always the best at small talk.”
You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Small talk is overrated anyway.”
Silence settled between you, strangely comfortable. From where you stood, the cheers of the crowd faded into the background with each new pair being chosen, distant enough to feel like the two of you were sealed off from the rest of the world. Right here, it was just you and him, standing at the edge of something Chan couldn’t quite name.
He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing the concrete railing as he debated whether he should say more, whether he should push this moment just a little further or not, since you seemed to be enjoying your own company until a few minutes ago, even if it was in his room.
The only thing he didn’t want to do was let it slip away.
So instead, he asked the question that had been circling in his mind the moment he spotted you through the curtains. “So, uh… how did you find my room?”
Chan watched as you suddenly froze, eyes widening as his question sank in. Your gaze followed his, tracing down to the hoodie hanging loosely on your frame, and the realization hit you. A soft laugh slipped past your lips and it sent his pulse straight into overdrive.
“Oh shit.” You blinked rapidly, the disbelief written all over your face. You seemed to realize the absurdity of the situation at the exact same moment the words slipped past your lips, your gaze flickering between him and the hoodie. “Wait, no—” you rushed out, clearly flustered. “I wasn’t snooping or anything, I swear. I didn’t even realize this was your room. I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t come in here to—”
“You just… what?” he asked, the words slipping out before he could catch them.
He was still trying to process all of it. you, standing in front of him, frustration and embarrassment coloring your face, and wearing his hoodie of all things — did he stress that enough?
Chan had spent the entire night convinced he’d already ruined every chance he might’ve had with you, and now here you were, undoing every conclusion he’d drawn.
You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. There was no way this could be less embarrassing. “I was looking for a quiet place to hide from the whole seven minutes in heaven thing. I found an unlocked door, thought it was an empty guest room, and uh… turns out, it wasn’t.”
He stared at you, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “And the hoodie?”
A sheepish smile tugged at your lips. “It was on the chair. It was cold. Thought it looked comfy.”
It was comfy. But that wasn’t the point.
He swallowed, trying not to let the warmth spreading through his chest take over his whole body. This—you—was the last thing he expected tonight. And yet, here you were, standing in his room at two in the morning, looking impossibly good in his clothes. Maybe the universe was on his side after all.
You stayed seated there, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you should stay or go. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, but for the first time all night, Chan didn’t feel like running away.
Instead, he exhaled, leaning back as he met your gaze. “Well,” he murmured, forcing a small smirk. “It looks better on you anyway.”
He had no idea where this sudden courage was coming from. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in his system, even though hours had passed since his last drink. Maybe it was the cool night air. Whatever it was, he was just glad he had found the nerve to flirt with you. Even if just a little bit.
Your lips twitched, and for a second, he thought you might say something. But then you just shook your head, voice quieter now, almost shy. “I’m sorry for invading your space. Do you want me to leave?”
Chan swallowed hard. He knew what the right answer was. Knew what Vernon and Seungkwan would tell him to do. Knew that you still had a boyfriend. But with you standing there, wearing his clothes, looking at him like that. Yeah. He was completely screwed.
“No, stay,” he blurted out, a little too eagerly. Then, realizing how desperate he must’ve sounded, he cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “I mean… if you want to.”
You tilted your head, watching him in that way that made his stomach flip. “You sure?”
Chan let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. Still, he wanted to make sure. “Yeah. Unless you want to go back?”
You glanced toward the door, as if weighing your options, before exhaling a small laugh. “Not really.”
He tried not to read too much into it. He tried not to let the fact that you were still standing there, apparently in no rush to leave, get to his head. “Then stay,” he said again, softer this time.
You held his gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering in your eyes.
“Okay,” you said at last. Then your lips curved into a teasing smile. “But only if I get to keep the hoodie.”
Chan huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. Like he could ever say no to you. “Fine. You can keep it.”
You grinned. “Thanks, Chan.”
“I mean… I might have to fight you for it later.”
“Oh, I’d win,” you shot back without hesitation, a smug little smirk playing at your lips.
And god, Chan believed you. Because you would only need to say the words and that hoodie would be yours forever.
There was a comfortable silence between you after that again, just the weight of the night settling in. The distant cheers from downstairs had died down a little, and the music had shifted to something slower, more subdued. It felt like the whole world had softened around the edges just for you and him.
You tilted your head slightly, studying him, studying him like you were trying to figure out a puzzle, and Chan felt his pulse jump all over again. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so nervous. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself or the way your eyes were holding an amused curiosity whenever you looked at him.
Or maybe — just maybe — it was simpler than that. Maybe it was because he wanted to be on the receiving end of the softness you reserved for your boyfriend.
At the thought of him, Chan’s expression faltered slightly, and he turned away, gripping the railing a little tighter than necessary. He had no right to feel the way he did, no right to want things he couldn’t have. But he was here now, alone with you in the quiet of the night, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that things were different.
Chan turned to you again, watching as you stared out at the horizon now. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he spoke next, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them. “So where’s your boyfriend?”
If you were surprised by the question, you didn’t let it show. He saw you lowering your head and letting out a not very happy laugh through your nose.
The truth was, you were surprised by his question, but at the same time, you weren’t. Jongin wasn’t exactly known for being non-territorial; he was always where you were, and when he couldn’t be, he made sure to show up at some point. But the way Chan’s question slipped out so easily, so curious, paralyzed all your instincts—the ones that told you to take it slow, to breathe between the end of your relationship with Jongin and the leap you were considering to take when you agreed to come here tonight.
And then, the confession slipped out of your lips before your brain could stop it. “He’s...not my boyfriend anymore.”
Chan’s eyes widened slightly at your words. His stomach churned with an uncomfortable mix of relief and confusion, and he blinked a few times, processing your words.
Would he go to hell for feeling immensely happy with that confession you had just made? Probably. And he would slow dance with the devil, grinning from ear to ear nonetheless.
“Not your boyfriend anymore?” he repeated after you. “Why not?”
You shrugged, a casual motion that didn’t match the weight of your words, finally looking up to meet his gaze again. “Didn’t want to be, I guess.”
That was only half true, and you knew it. It wasn’t like you wanted to be his girlfriend either. But still, you weren’t the one who ended things by cheating on him with his step sister. You’d probably still be with him if he hadn’t decided to put an end to it in the worst way possible, even if your heart was beating for someone completely different already.
Was it weird that you felt relieved to be cheated on, because it finally gave you a reason to leave?
“Then he’s an idiot,” Chan muttered with no hesitation. Like it was a fact, not a judgment.
When you looked at him, his eyes were filled with genuine empathy. You smiled gratefully, appreciating his compassion. Not wanting to weigh the moment, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”
Chan frowned slightly. “I doubt it,” he said, before adding, “But why?”
You shrugged again. “It wasn’t like I was dying to stay in that relationship, you know.”
The way you said it, almost too calmly, threw him off. I mean, he knew you weren’t very happy in your relationship; it was evident in your body language around Jongin. But he didn’t expect it to go as far as you wishing you weren’t actually in it.
He wanted to ask more, to understand what had happened, but a part of him feared that prying would make him sound even more pathetic. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing on, his voice low and a little uncertain. “Wait, so you didn’t want to be with him either?”
You didn’t hesitate, your expression not betraying any emotion, but your voice was a little more sharper when you replied. “Not really. I didn’t even like him in the end. I guess I just stayed longer than I should have because it was… comfortable.”
“That doesn’t sound like a great reason to stay.”
Chan bit his lip, trying to digest your words. Part of him wanted to reach out, to comfort you somehow, but he didn’t know where to start. The realization that you were no longer with him, the guy who seemed to have always been in the picture, stirred something in him, like a sense of hope he wasn’t prepared to feel tonight. But he kept it buried, not wanting to come off too eager, too quick to assume.
“It wasn’t,” you admitted. “But it’s hard to walk away from something when you don’t have a reason big enough to leave.”
“And what finally made you leave? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“You’re funny.” You smiled, head tilted to the side as you locked gazes with him. “I’ve never really got to actually talk to you before. Yet, here we are,” you gestured to the space between you with your hands. “I like this side of you. Curious and talkative Chan.”
“Yeah?”
He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, even though a smile tugged at his lips. He was happy that being alone with you had finally awakened that side of him: more talkative, made him braver, lighter, more him.
You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I do.” Then you sighed, before saying, “To answer your question: he cheated on me with my step sister.”
His eyes widened and suddenly he was back to not knowing what to say, so he stayed quiet for a moment.
Chan’s brain raced, his heart pounding. Was it bad that the idea of you being available—of there being a chance for something, whatever it might be—be the only thing that appeared in flashing neon signs in his head?
Either way, he was glad you had gotten out of a relationship that clearly wasn’t good for you. He was happy that you had gotten rid of the asshole who was known for only dating girls ten years younger than him, the asshole who never let you breathe.
“Why did you date him anyway? Guy’s a jerk.” The words escaped his mouth before he could even control them.
“He gave me just the right amount of attention, at the right time,” you answered without hesitation, shrugging again. “Have you ever heard ‘We accept the love we think we deserve’?”
Chan frowned, processing your words. Well, that was sad. The way you spoke about it, almost like you were talking about a lesson learned the hard way, made him feel a pang of sympathy for you.
“I’ve heard of it,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” you continued, eyes searching his face. “I didn't realize I deserved more until the moment I woke up from the trance I’d been stuck in for two years.”
Listening to you confess to him all of this without thinking twice and sounding so sincere, made his stomach twisted with something like a mixture of frustration and admiration. He could see how hard it must’ve been for you, but at the same time, something in him wanted to protect you, to offer the kind of attention and care that wasn’t half-hearted, something real and full of understanding.
Something you truly deserved.
“You do deserve more,” he finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Everyone does. And if you want it, you can have it. No one should make you feel like you don’t.”
Chan hoped you understood the undertone of his words. Though he was genuine in what he said, he wanted to be everything you deserved—the more you could and should have. God knew how much he wanted it, and how far he would go to show you that. But in that moment, he also wanted to offer words of comfort, to be the shoulder you might need.
You didn’t say anything for a while, just standing there, letting the noise of the party hum around you both. Finally, you exhaled.
“It’s hard to let go of what you’ve known, even when it’s not good for you,” you admitted, almost like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But sometimes, I guess you need to make space for something better, even if it’s scary.”
His heart beat faster at your words. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew one thing: this conversation, this moment between you, felt different than anything he had experienced with you before.
“Do you think…” he started, and then stopped, unsure of what to ask. He was afraid that anything he said might ruin the moment.
“Maybe,” you murmured quietly, though your voice didn’t waver, eyes locked on his. “Maybe I need to stop accepting what I think I deserve and start going after what I actually deserve.”
Chan swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The air between you felt charged now, heavier than it should have been. He felt as if he were teetering on the brink of something, something he was not afraid to jump into and also couldn’t stop himself from wanting, hoping you wished the same, even if he was too crazy or delusional to consider that possibility.
Just as he was about to say something, he suddenly felt light raindrops hitting the spot where the two of you were standing on the balcony. The first few drops were light, barely noticeable, but within seconds, the drizzle grew heavier, the scent of rain taking over the air.
Chan watched you look up, your eyes tracing the sky as it darkened, the city below shimmering through the mist. When you turned back to him, he was staring at you, not at the rain, not at the sky, but at you. You met his gaze, and for a split second, everything else faded; the sound of the rain, the distant hum of the city below, even the pounding of his own heart.
He blinked, breaking the spell, his gaze flickering toward the curtain of rain before inevitably returning to you. “Maybe we should go inside,” he suggested, the hesitance in his voice sounding less like uncertainty and more like an offering. Chan was trying to give you an escape, if you wanted it.
You nodded slowly, and without saying a word, you jumped off the balcony railing, following him inside. You looked around the dark room for a second, before saying, “Maybe I should go. I don't want to hold the party host down with me.”
Chan turned to face you, his eyes softening as he took in your words. There was something about the way you spoke, in the tiny pause, the quiet wobble of your voice, that made him want to step closer, to reassure you that you weren’t an inconvenience. If anything, you were the one person he wanted there, more than anything, more than anyone.
“You’re not holding anyone down,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “If anything, it’s me who should be worried about keeping you from having fun.”
“Never,” you replied, sounding casual, though something in your voice slipped past his understanding. Particularly when you added, “Besides, the person I wanted to kiss isn't even downstairs.”
He stopped dead in his tracks, his heart giving a sharp, startled kick. At this point, a heart attack felt like a valid possibility. He blinked, not quite sure if he had heard you correctly, but the way your gaze held his, steady and unflinching, told him that he hadn’t misheard.
Chan cleared his throat, his voice coming out a little too thick for his liking. “Oh? And, uh… who exactly were you hoping to kiss, if not...?” He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer.
As the curtain moved in the wind, bringing the streetlight into the room, he saw a mischievous smile grow on your lips.
What the hell was happening? Was his brain betraying him? Was he imagining this moment? Had he passed out on the bed when he went to his bedroom and was now in a dream, after spending ninety percent of his energy thinking about you at the party he should have been enjoying with his friends?
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you answered, and turned your back to him, eyes immediately darting to the shelf of his trophies from dance competitions and photographs.
Yes, I do! I want to know! Chan wanted to shout, but contained himself.
Instead, he stood there for a moment, unsure whether to follow up with another question, or to let the silence stretch on. The way you spoke, so casually and yet with that playful glint in your eye, made everything feel… electric.
So he simply watched you there, in his room, moving without hesitation, slowly walking over to his shelf, running your finger along the wood and observing each one of his trophies, medals and pictures with meticulous care.
He couldn’t help but think—and wish too—that he could get used to this scene.
The golden plaques gleamed under the dim light, each one marking a victory of his. Some were polished to perfection, while others bore the faintest scratches, proof of the years Chan had spent chasing dreams in the dance field. Your gaze drifted to the framed photographs beside them, each snapshot telling a different story of his life.
There were several photos of him as a little kid, beaming as ever, dressed in performance clothes, on stage, with a medal around his neck. In another, he stood beside his previous performance group, whom you recognized as Kwon Soonyoung, Wen Junhui, and Xu Minghao, their grins wide and carefree. There were also photos with his parents and grandmother, and some with what looked like his younger brother.
Chan was probably the cutest kid you had ever seen, and that realization made you smile genuinely.
“Lee Jung Chan?” you read aloud, curiosity threading through your voice as your eyes went back to his children’s dance trophies. Your fingers brushed over the small golden plaque, the engraving slightly worn from time.
Behind you, he let out a soft chuckle. “It’s my name on my family tree. The government name is just Lee Chan.”
“You went by your full name back then?”
He shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Only because my mom insisted. She said it sounded more professional, like I was already a star or something.”
“It’s cute,” you remarked, throwing him a look over your shoulder. “You were so cute.”
“Yes, well, the kids used to call me Jimmy Neutron.”
You laughed, turning fully to face him. Neither of you had noticed how close you were until you did. If you reached out your arms, you’d only be able to touch each other slightly. But even though both of you thought about it, neither of you made any move to change your positions, continuing your conversation.
“What? Jimmy Neutron?”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair as if reliving the embarrassment. “Yeah. They said my head was too big for my body. And, you know, the spiky hair didn’t help.”
You bit your lip, trying to suppress another laugh. Chan holded his breath at your movement, forcing himself to look elsewhere, forcing himself not to think about your lips or else his blood would rush south.
“I can totally see it now,” you teased, releasing your lip from your teeth and looking between him and the photo on the shelf.
He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Wow, okay. I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am!” You held up your hands in defense. “I just think it’s adorable. And look at you now. You certainly grew into it beautifully.”
Chan smirked, tilting his head and crossing his arms. “So you're saying I look beautiful now?”
You rolled your eyes, turning back to the trophies. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Jimmy Neutron.”
He laughed, stepping up beside you as his eyes skimmed over the shelf briefly, before turning back to you. “Yeah, but I kinda see it. My head was huge.”
You tilted your head, studying one of the photos of him mid-dance, his tiny frame caught in motion. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and black fingerless gloves, hair is slightly messy and spiky, adding to the fun and carefree to his edgy look. His bright smile revealed a gap between his teeth, and you thought to yourself that you’ve probably never seen anything so lovely before.
“Well, I think you were adorable,” you said under your breath, your finger tracing the edge of the frame. “And talented, obviously. All these trophies…”
He shrugged, a little bashful. “My grandmother was really proud of them. She used to polish them every weekend.”
Your smile softened. “She sounds sweet.”
“She is,” he replied, voice tinged with fondness. “She used to call me ‘our little star.’”
Something about the way Chan said it made warmth bloom in your chest. You turned toward him, and he was looking at you again, his expression unreadable but undeniably intense. The streetlights made his features look even more defined, shadows deepening along his strong jawline.
If there was one thing you knew about Lee Chan, it was that he was a star. Every performance he was part of filled the university theater, without failure. Not to mention the countless admirers he had on campus, and with good reason.
Watching him do what he loved was a pleasure simply because he was that good. Confident and unwavering, he dominated the stage effortlessly, as if wrapped in a bubble no one could pierce. It was mesmerizing to witness.
“You still are, you know,” you said gently. “A star.”
His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Just studied you like he was trying to figure something out. Finally, a small, shy smile tugged at his lips. “I think I prefer when you call me cute.”
“Duly noted.”
Chan exhaled a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the desk beside the shelf. “You know, I don’t usually let people snoop around my room like this.”
You glanced at him over your shoulder again, your fingers still lightly tracing over the edge of a picture framed. “Oh? Am I special, Channie?”
You didn’t need to say his name that way, or shape the word with your lips like that. His eyes dipped to your mouth, and a flicker crossed his expression. His eyes met yours.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, you are.”
To mask the fact that your breath hitched slightly, you offered him a playful smirk. “Good to know.”
As Chan moved to sit on the edge of his bed, you continued the exploration of his shelf, eyes stopping at a picture frame in the middle where he was standing between what seemed to be his parents, both of them kissing his cheek sweetly.
“Is your father a dancer too?” you asked, running your fingers over his face on the picture.
“Yeah. My dad and my mom,” he explained. “They kind of stopped after I was born.”
“Wow. It’s in your blood, then.”
Chan nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. My dad always says I got his footwork, but my mom says I got her rhythm.”
You leaned against the table by the shelf, watching him as he spoke. “So they gave it up for you?”
He paused, considering, then nodded. “Yeah. My dad started teaching instead, and my mom focused on raising me. They never made me feel like I took anything away from them, though.”
“That’s love.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Another comfortable silence settled between you as you turned back to the photos, your fingers absently tracing the edges of the other frames. One photo in particular caught your eye. It was from the exact same day you first noticed him, during the university’s annual arts week in your sophomore year.
He was dressed in a white button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, black dress pants, and his hair dyed a faded dark blue. You knew he had worn a tie too because he had taken it off during the performance.
Out of the four members in the unit, he immediately stood out to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but it was as if no one else existed on that stage besides him. Your eyes were locked on him and no one else, watching in awe as he moved across the stage, completely captivated.
“I was there that day, you know?” you pointed out, showing him over the shoulder the photo you were referring to.
Chan’s eyes widened as he stared at it. It was one of the images from his first big performance at the university’s annual arts week back in his freshman year, a moment that had felt like a turning point for him, when everything had clicked. He hadn’t realized anyone had been paying attention back then, least of all you.
“You were?” His voice held a note of surprise. There was something so disarming about the way you were looking at the photo, and then at him.
You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze before turning back. “Yeah. I was in the back, by the side stage,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You were… mesmerizing.”
He felt a warmth spread through him at your words. Chan hadn’t expected to hear something like that, especially not from you.
“Really?” He couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. His brows lifted slightly, as if he was trying to picture it. “How come I didn’t see you?”
“I don’t think you noticed anyone that night,” you teased. “You were in your own world up there.”
He hummed, eyes flickering back to the photo. “Maybe,” he mused, then glanced at you again, a slow smile crept onto his lips. “So, you’ve been watching me all this time, noona?”
There was a teasing edge to his voice and you exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“No?” He titled his head. “Then how would you put it?”
He saw you hesitate for a second, fingers still resting on the shelf. Then, meeting his eyes, you admitted, “I noticed you. That night, and every time after that.”
Chan felt his breath catch in his throat.
There was something about the way you said it—so simple, so honest—that made his heart stutter.
You noticed him.
Not just that night, but every time after.
He had spent years analyzing every interaction you two had ever had. Every glance, every small word, every time you did so much as acknowledged his existence. And now? Now you were standing here, saying things that made his heart race like it was the easiest thing to do.
How did he end up here?
Chan felt lightheaded.
He wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t rare for him to be speechless around you, so there he was again, standing in front of you, feeling like the floor beneath him wasn’t quite solid anymore.
“You noticed me,” he echoed, more to himself than to you.
You nodded, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of the photo before you finally pulled your hand away. “Yeah,” you confirmed, laughing softly. “I did, Channie.”
Chan swallowed. Hard. He wanted to ask why. What was it about him that had caught your attention? Was it his performance? His presence? Something else entirely different?
But instead, he found himself saying, “I wish I’d noticed you in the crowd.”
Your lips parted slightly, but instead of speaking, you simply smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
His fingers twitched at his sides. God, he wished he could go back in time to that night so he could scan every face in the crowd to find you standing by the side stage, maybe watching him with that same look you had now. You weren’t even dating Jongin at the time, and if your words were any indication of what he was imagining, maybe he had missed an opportunity by acting as though you were unattainable. Maybe he had lost precious time.
Chan watched as moved away from the shelf, turning to him entirely. His breath hitched slightly as you stepped closer, each movement deliberate, unhurried. You didn’t hesitate as you sank down beside him on the bed, the space between you shrinking just enough to make his pulse quicken.
The room suddenly felt smaller, quieter, like the world outside had dulled, leaving only the two of you in this charged silence.
He forced himself to breathe, to act natural, even as every fiber of his being buzzed with awareness of your presence beside him. You were close enough that he could catch the faintest trace of the sweetness of your perfume again, making his head spin in the best way.
His eyes stayed fixed on you as you pressed your hands into the mattress and stared at the wall ahead, as if you were deliberately avoiding his gaze for reasons he couldn’t name.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Mhmm.”
You wet your lips, a brief hesitation before finally voicing the thought that had lingered in your mind all night. “Were you avoiding me tonight?”
Chan felt his heart slam against his ribs. “I wasn’t—” he started, then stopped himself because, well… yeah, he had been avoiding you. But only because every time he looked at you, he felt like his brain melted, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to not make a fool of himself.
You smirked, clearly amused by his silence. The question seemed to be answered to you. “That’s what I thought.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t avoiding you, I just—” He paused, eyes lifting to the ceiling and then settling on you again. Halfway through, Chan decided that it was no longer the time to second guess things, so he simply admitted, “You make me very nervous, noona.”
You wished you had an explanation for the way you shivered slightly when he called you noona. But instead, you chose to ignore the feeling, letting the sensation fade into something softer, something more curious.
“I make you nervous?” you repeated, tilting your head slightly as your eyes widened. “That’s a first.”
Chan huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You say that like it’s impossible. I bet–I know I’m not the only one.”
You shrugged. “I don’t know… you’ve always seemed so confident. Especially on stage.”
“That is just an act,” he confessed. “On stage, I could pretend to be someone else for a little while. But you?” He turned to you. “You’re real. You’re right here.”
And he still couldn’t believe it, the words leaving his lips as if he were pinching himself to prove that this was really happening and not just a fever dream.
Hearing him, you wondered what Chan would think if he knew how your stomach was doing backflips because of the way he was looking at you like you were something impossible and unreal all at once.
You hadn’t expected this and most certainly didn't expect him to say something so… vulnerable. Something that made your heart race so fast with all the implications of his words.
“I didn’t mean to make you nervous, Channie,” you whispered, your voice softer now, sounding like you were trying to defend yourself. You had never looked so cute as you did now.
“I don’t think you can help it,” Chan tried to explain, letting out a breathless chuckle. “You know, you probably didn’t know this, but I had a, um… a crush on you.”
Okay, he knew he was straying from the truth. But there was a limit to his courage, and even though he had sensed a bit of flirting between you, he wasn’t about to risk rejection after the nice conversation you’d had tonight, because maybe he was just imagining things.
And he wanted you to walk away from here at least as friends rather than leave an awkward situation for the two of you. He’d rather have you like this than not have you at all. That was why he decided to test the waters with that small lie.
Your lips parted slightly at his confession, your mind racing to process what he had just admitted. “You… had a crush on me?” you repeated, almost like you were trying to make sure you’d heard him right.
Chan nodded, his expression somewhere between amused and nervous. “Yeah. A major one,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Something inside you fluttered at the thought. It seemed like every word that came out of Chan’s mouth was meant to surprise you, even if you didn’t believe he was doing it on purpose. You hadn’t expected this at all, not from him, least of all, not tonight.
“You’re bullshiting me, aren’t you?” you accused, narrowing your eyes playfully.
He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Nope. Dead serious.”
“But you never said anything!”
“Didn’t think you’d be interested.” He shrugged. Then he nudged you with his elbow, playfully. “Plus you had a boyfriend.”
You blinked at him, momentarily stunned into silence.
Didn’t think you’d be interested?
It was absurd to hear those words coming from him, the same person who had commanded every room he walked into without even trying, the same person who had owned the stage so effortlessly that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.
What would he say if you opened your mouth to confess that you’d realized you weren’t happy in your old relationship the moment you started noticing him everywhere? Noticing his smile, the way he blushed when you talked to him, the way he seemed so unreachable, like he wasn’t the least bit interested in getting to know you, always running away when you were around.
Maybe that should’ve been your first clue that he had a crush on you too. But perhaps you were too caught up in your own melancholia to notice.
So, instead of spilling out, you decided to test something. “Is it just in the past?”
Chan’s brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by your question. “What?”
“Your crush.”
“Uhh..”
“Because it would be so sad if it was” you said before you could stop yourself, eyes searching for his.
“Really?”
You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head with a small smile. “Mhmm.”
He swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting at your response. Of all the ways this conversation could have gone, this was not what Chan had expected. Maybe he was in a dream. A very lived one, but still, a dream.
“You—” He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like he had forgotten how to speak. “You think it would be sad?”
You hummed. “Yeah. I think it would be a shame if something like that just… faded away.”
Chan's heart was doing something ridiculous in his chest, and he wasn't sure if it was panic or hope or a chaotic mix of both. He should say something. He should joke about it, keep it light, make sure this moment didn’t carry more weight than it should. But he couldn’t because the way you were looking at him right now felt dangerous.
“Would it?” he managed, clearing his throat in the process.
Your smile again, nodding.
He let out a breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really know how to mess with a guy’s head, huh?”
“Maybe,” You grinned, leaning in just a little. “But only when it’s fun. Besides who says you’re not messing with mine too?”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
You didn’t say anything else and Chan stared at you for a long moment, his mind racing with a million things he wanted to say, a million things he wanted to do. But instead, he smiled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were real. That this moment was real.
He was messing with your head? That’s a first.
“Noted,” he simply murmured.
“What about now?” You looked at him expectantly, not letting silence settle between you.
Chan inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. “Now?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded once more. Chan’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second before he recovered. “Are you asking if I still have a crush on you, noona?”
You rolled your eyes, trying to mask the way your heart had started hammering. “Forget it,” you muttered, getting up from the bed.
He reached out, closing his hand around your wrist, and gently pulled you back to sit on the bed again. For a second, it felt like the world had stopped moving. It all faded into nothing. It was just you and him, standing there in this uncertain space that he used to call his bedroom.
Chan’s throat went dry, and he swallowed hard. His first instinct was to joke, to brush it off, to act nonchalant, as he always did. But the look in your eyes—quiet, expectant, tinged with something dangerously close to hope—left him no room to lie.
And before you could escape the moment, Chan leaned in ever so slightly, just enough that you felt the warmth of him beside you. “For the record,” he started, voice lower now, just for you. “Some things don’t change that easily.”
You turned to look at him, and for the first time that night, you weren’t sure who was more nervous: you or him.
You held his gaze for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile curled at the corners of your lips. “Good.”
Chan blinked. You were going to give him a whiplash.
“Good?”
You nodded, shifting just a little closer, the space between you growing small. “Like I said: it would be really sad if it had faded away.”
A few seconds passed, he just stared at you, his heart pounding, his pulse roaring in his ears. He could barely think, could barely breathe. “Are you messing with me?” he asked, a nervous chuckle slipping out.
“What do you think?” you asked, biting your lip, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re trouble.”
You grinned. “Only when it's fun, remember?”
“Noted.”
Chan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. This time, there was something different in his voice, something lighter, something hopeful.
You kept your lip under your teeth for a second, analyzing him carefully. For the first time, Chan didn’t feel intimidated by your gaze. He didn’t feel exposed. Quite the opposite, his skin felt like it was on fire, but for a very good reason.
Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a fraction of a second. If he hadn’t been watching you so closely, he would’ve missed it.
You were too close. Or maybe not close enough.
“Chan.”
“Yes, noona?”
“Do you wanna kiss me?”
He felt every neuron in his brain misfire at once, completely abandoning him at the worst possible moment.
Did he hear you right?
Did you—did you really just ask him that?
But the way you were looking at him—head bent to the side, eyes locked onto his with quiet amusement—made it clear that he hadn’t.
His fingers twitched against his knee, his pulse hammering in his ears so hard he was sure you could hear it. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Suddenly, every single response he could think of felt either too much or not enough.
He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, the way your gaze never left his, searching, waiting.
“Uh…” He cleared his throat again, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I—um—”
“Because you keep looking at me like you do,” you continued, “and if you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I just thought I’d ask.”
He was absolutely, utterly doomed.
He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Noona, you can’t just ask me that.”
“Why not?”
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Chan let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head.
You grinned. “Is that a yes or a no?”
You were still watching him, waiting, and damn it if he didn’t want to kiss you more than anything. He always had. But now? With you looking at him like that, teasing, testing, daring him? It was like he was malfunctioning.
Yeah, he was probably overthinking this. Hell, scratch that, he was definitely overthinking this. But the truth was, this wasn’t just some random moment to him, with a random person. It was you. And you weren’t just anybody to him.
He didn’t want to screw this up.
But at the same time…
God, he wanted to kiss you. More than he would like to see the sun rise again.
So, he took a breath, gathering every ounce of courage he had left, and finally, finally, he answered.
“Yes,” he admitted, voice quiet but steady. “I really, really want to kiss you.”
Your smile turned softer, less teasing now. “Then what are you waiting for?”
That’s all it took.
Chan closed the space between you, his hesitation melting away the second his lips brushed against yours. It was slow, tentative at first. He wanted to memorize the feeling of your lips, engrave it into his memory in case he never got the chance to do it again. But when you responded to him, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in just a little closer, something inside him snapped completely.
He exhaled sharply against your lips before deepening the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he tilted his head, molding himself to you like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life, and not just two years of it.
If the party outside still carried on, now it felt absolutely muted. The only thing that existed was your lips against his, the way they fit together, your fingers threading through his hair, the soft sound you let out when he nipped your bottom lip.
Chan was dizzy. Overwhelmed.
And completely, absolutely ruined for anyone else.
Your fingers dung into his tight, searching for support, and you felt him groan against your lips. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a reaction deep within you. His hand slipped from the back of your neck into your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he tilted your head to the side, and that was it. You were lost too.
When a soft gasp left your lips at the feeling of him pulling your hair slightly, Chan saw the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips, teasingly, deliberately, claiming the space with an intoxicating slowness. They way kissed you left you breathless, lightheaded, as if he’d stolen the very air from your lungs.
Your knees bumped against his as you tried to move closer, and instead of pulling away, Chan only tightened his grip on you, his arm slipping from your hair to your waist. In one smooth motion, he guided you into his lap, pulling you over his legs until you were straddling him.
A surprised giggle bubbled from your lips at the sudden shift, but he didn’t falter, if anything, the sound only seemed to spur him on. His hands settled firmly on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as if committing your shape to his memory.
One kiss bled into the next, and then another, and another, until the only force pulling you apart was the desperate need for air. Your forehead rested against his for a fleeting moment, both of you panting, neither willing to let go.
Then, with a boldness that sent heat surging through you, you leaned in, taking his bottom lip between yours, sucking gently as your hips rolled forward in an instinctive motion. A groan tore from both of you at the same time at the feeling of you core meeting his half hardened cock for the first time.
Chan’s head tipped back, his throat exposed to you, a silent invitation too tempting to ignore. You pressed an open-mouthed kiss just below his perfect jaw, feeling the way his pulse leapt beneath your lips. His hands traveled slowly and torturously from your hips to your thighs, hovering just above the hem of your skirt, while you traced your tongue over the skin of his neck, giving it a playful nip with your teeth.
His breath hitched at the feeling, gripping on your tights for dear life as his heart raced like crazy. The fire in his veins was undeniable, every inch of him consumed by you. Your touch, the way your lips moved, was driving him to the edge of something he wasn’t sure he could come back from.
As Chan looked at you, his eyes begging to close in pleasure, he was sure his pupils were dilated at the scene before him and the fact that you looked like a goddess on top of him.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispered, a rasp of desire that sent a thrill racing through you.
Your response to his words was to rock your hips against his, feeling his full hardness now pressing your folds through his pants and listening to him whine, breathy and desperate. At the sound of it, you couldn’t help but sink your teeth into his neck, sucking to ensure you left a mark, to ensure everyone saw what you had done to him.
Chan’s breath came in uneven, his body shuddering beneath you as your lips lingered over the mark you’d left on his skin. His hands tightened around your tights, fingers twitching like he was resisting the urge to take things further, to let his restraint unravel completely.
“Fuck,” Chan rasped, his head tilting forward until his forehead rested against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You hummed against him, dragging your lips up toward his ear, reveling in the way he shivered beneath you. “What do you want, Channie?” you teased, nipping at his earlobe.
Your hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips tracing along the defined ridges of his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, his hands now gripping your thighs like they were the only things keeping him grounded, like he was afraid you’d slip away.
His eyes fluttered open, dark and desperate as they locked onto yours.
“You,” he admitted, breathless, “I just want you.”
The raw honesty in his words sent another shiver down your spine. “Then take me, baby,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his jaw, the ghost of a challenge in your voice.
Chan groaned, his hands sliding up from your thighs, gripping your waist with a reverence that made your pulse stutter. His thumbs traced slow, teasing circles against your skin, his restraint evident in the way his fingers flexed but didn’t pull you closer.
“You really are on a mission to kill me, aren’t you?” he whispered, his breath deliciously warm against your lips.
You smirked, tilting your head just slightly, an exhalation away from his mouth. “What gave it away?”
He exhaled sharply, his patience snapping like a thread. One moment, you were teasing him, savoring the slow burn, and the next, he was kissing you like he’d been starving for you his entire life. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, all-consuming, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him.
The heat between you flared, intoxicating and undeniable. Your fingers slid up his chest, tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, breathy moan from his lips. The sound sent a thrill through you, your body pressing closer, chasing the feeling of him, the warmth of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that existed.
His hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your shirt, his touch searing against the bare skin of your inner thighs. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, mapping out every inch of you like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to memorize it, in case this was the last time he’d ever get to.
Your hips rolled instinctively again, pressing down against him, and Chan groaned into your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. “Fuck,” he breathed, his head falling back as he sucked in a sharp breath.
You leaned in, pressing another set of kisses to the column of his throat. “Too much?” you teased, your voice sultry, full of mischief.
Chan’s jaw clenched as he let out a breathless chuckle. “Not even close.”
His hands traveled higher up your thighs, and the moment his index finger traced a slow line over the fabric of your already-soaked panties, a moan slipped from your lips into his. He grunted something unintelligible as he tugged your panties to the side, his fingers finally feeling how wet you were beneath them. Then, he dragged his touch torturously up to your stomach before slipping inside the lace, and you instinctively lifted your hips, giving him better access to where you needed him most.
“Are you this wet for me, noona?” he asked, pulling back to meet your gaze. Two of his fingers pushed inside you, while his thumb circled your most sensitive spot and you cried out. “Is this all because of me?”
You nodded desperately, almost missing the disbelief in his eyes that only fueled the intensity between you. It heighted every touch, made you move in sync with him, your teeth sinking into your lip as he worked you over with deliberate precision, taking his time to drive you absolutely crazy with his fingers moving into and out of you.
“I want you to sit on my face.” His voice didn’t waver; it was an order wrapped in certainty, his eyes darkened with something you’d never seen in him before, something you instantly craved. The sheer weight of it dragged a whimper from your lips.
Still, you can’t help but think about his safety.
“Are you sure?” The words slipped out on a shaky exhale, your breathing already unsteady.
Both of his hands returned to your thighs, slowly trailing up to your ass beneath your skirt.
“Never been more sure in my entire life. Please”
“Fuck. Okay.”
You got off him for a moment, quickly slipping off your boots as you stepped out of the bed. You pulled off your skirt and panties, while Chan got up to remove his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. Then he returned to the bed, sitting comfortably and leaning back on his elbows, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes burned with desire as he watched you slowly take off his hoodie before taking your sweet time freeing your breasts from the tight black corset, clearly on purpose.
When your breasts finally spilled free, his mouth parted slightly, eyes locked onto your hardened nipples as if it were one of the seven wonders of the world.
“Come here, baby.”
You slowly crawled across the bed toward where he was lying close to the headboard, and Chan helped you position yourself on top of him. Each of your thighs settled on either side of his head as you both adjusted, ensuring the position was comfortable for both of you.
“You have the prettiest pussy,” he whispered against you, followed by a groan, and you felt his breath hit your entrance, making you tremble slightly.
You knew that you were so fucking wet that even in the dim light of the room, you were sure he could see your folds glistening. But instead of feeling embarrassed, a thrill ran through your body when you glanced down and saw Chan licking his lips, his eyes locked onto your core just inches from his face. He stared at you like you were the most delicious meal he was ever going to have in his life.
“You smell delicious, noona.” The way he spoke made you moan softly, your hands instinctively moving to squeeze your breasts. “Bet you taste even better.”
Chan gripped the back of your thighs, pulling you closer until your heat was right in front of his face, his eyes drinking in the sight. His lips found your inner thigh first, sucking a mark into your soft skin, slow and deliberate.
When he finally placed his lips exactly where you needed him, your hands flew straight to grip his hair, holding tightly between your fingers as your legs trembled from the indescribable sensation of his mouth on you. Still, Chan sensed that you were trying to hold back, worried about hurting him, so as soon as you shifted just an inch away from his face, he pushed you back down, holding you tight against him.
The gasp that left your lips was a sound you’d never made before, completely immersed in the pleasure he was giving you. His nose nudged against your clit, his tongue gathering your arousal before his mouth moved over you with deliberate hunger, like a man who had been starving for far too long.
“So good, Channie,” you cried out, body almost falling forward. “Holy fuck!”
The way Chan’s mouth moved on you was pure, unrestrained hunger, and it felt so good that, only for a moment, you entertained your brain with the idea that his mouth was made to do exactly what he was doing: eating your pussy. His lips cupped your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bud with slow strokes, alternating with long, deep sucks that made you shiver around him.
His tongue circled your entrance, sliding in as more of your slick spilled into his mouth, all for him to savor. The taste of you—god, he never wanted this to end. All day, every day, Chan was sure he could do this for the rest of his fucking life. All he wanted was to drown himself in this, inside the wet dream that was you with your pussy right in his face.
Your hands pulled his hair tightly after one particularly harsh suck on your clit, back arching deliciously. Your moans were the only sound filling the room and Chan was pretty sure this was the soundtrack of paradise and he couldn’t wait to get there.
When his hands moved to your ass, squeezing tightly, it was as if the last shred of self-control in his body had evaporated. You started to rock your hips instinctively, grinding against his face desperately to chase your release while his nose offered you the most earth-shattering sensations.
“Oh my god, Chan,” you choked out, closing your eyes shut.
“Hmm.” His hum sent vibrations through your core and suddenly you had to use his shoulders for balance or you would have fallen forward on the bed.
Chan was certain he had died and gone to heaven the moment you started grinding against his face. He could feel your legs tense around his head, and when he opened his eyes to take in the scene above him—hands traveling up your body until they reached your breasts, squeezing them tightly—the way your face crumpled and the sounds escaping your parted lips, Chan knew he was in love.
He was done. Gone.
There was no one else for him in this world.
Only you.
You.
You.
You.
You bucked your hips against his face with more urgency as his thumbs rolled over your nipples in the most delicious way. His other hand found your neck, wrapping around it and squeezing lightly, and your head fell back, granting him free access to do whatever he wanted with you. At that moment, the familiar, intoxicating tingling built in the pit of your stomach, moans and sighs spilling from your lips more desperately and loud as you tightened your legs around his head.
“Hmm, suffocate me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick and low.
That was all it took for your orgasm to crash over you in the most intense way, your mind bubbling with euphoria, completely lost in a haze of pleasure.
Chan licked and sucked up every last drop, swallowing your release in loud gulps as if it were the only thing capable of keeping him hydrated. As you let go of his shoulders and collapsed onto the bed beside him, your legs, weak as jelly, trembled uncontrollably, matching the shivers that ran through the rest of your body.
When you looked at him, you saw the dazed, blissed-out expression on his face mirroring your fucked-out one, like he were the one who had just come. His red lips were parted, his chin glistening, and you couldn’t resist the dopey smile on his face. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, tasting yourself on him. With a strength you didn’t even know you had, especially right now, you pulled him on top of you, parting your legs so he could fit there.
Chan barely had time to register the movement before letting out a small chuckle. He broke the kiss for a second, brushing your hair from your face to meet your eyes, your pupils blown wide with a desire that was reflecting his own.
He could only be dreaming.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips.
Normally, words like that spoken so close would have made you shy. But right now, you could feel his hard length—aching, neglected, and probably leaking—pressing against your inner thigh through the fabric of his pants.
Your hands traveled from his chest to his pants and you fumbled with his belt, struggling for a moment until your fingers remembered how to work. You unfastened his zipper, hands moving with growing urgency each passing second. As you pushed his pants down, your fingers traced the firm and defined lines of his abdomen, the sharp cut of his hips, and the soft hair on the back of his thighs.
The moment you managed to free him from his underwear, Chan’s cock rested on your hip, hard and thick. He groaned at the feeling of your skin against him and you arched into him, desperate to feel more, to press him even more against you, to take him in.
“Wanna ride you, Channie,” you told him, leaning forward to kiss him again. You reached between you, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling him thick and burning hot against your palm.
Chan let out a shaky breath at your words, his grip on your waist tightening instinctively. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours and your parted lips, as if trying to ground himself, trying to believe that this was actually his reality and not just another figment of his imagination.
“You don’t have to feel obligated, baby.”
“I want it.” You batted your pretty eyelashes at him, and he was lost. “Please.”
“Okay, noona.”
Your fingers brushed over his jaw, tilting his face up to meet your lips in another deep, searing kiss. Every part of you was incredibly drawn to him, turned on by him, the heat between you almost unbearable now. Slowly, deliberately, you rocked your hips forward, savoring the way his breath stuttered against your lips.
“You were driving me insane,” he groaned, his hands tightening their hold on you.
You smiled, feeling the way his pulse raced beneath your lips. “Good. Now lay back for me, baby.”
Chan didn’t argue. He shifted slightly, scooting back and patting his thighs in invitation for you to hover over his cock. The dim light cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the curve of your back and the way your hair fell around your shoulders. He watched you, his breath catching in his throat as you met his gaze. He lay back and propped himself up on his elbows again, anticipation thrumming through his veins.
You moved with a slow, deliberate grace, straddling him once again, your bare pussy covering his length. The feeling of his cock against your lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you also felt him trembling a little beneath you.
You paused, savoring his gaze locked on you. His eyes were filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. Smiling down at him, you slid your pussy against his cock, feeling his head rub on your clit. A simultaneous moan escaped from both of you. The next second, his lips were on your breasts, sucking and squeezing the flesh with both hands, clearly impressed by how responsive and sensitive you were to his touch.
After a particularly harsh suck, he released your nipple with an audible pop, the sound echoing in the still-charged air. A smile spread across his face as he watched the flush recede from your skin, leaving a rosy imprint in its wake.
“Beautiful.” He licked your nipple one more time, gaze locked on yours, as he said, “There’s a condom on the nightstand.”
He didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive.
“Didn’t you wanna take me raw, Channie?” You pouted, sliding forward again. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.”
He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat working as he fought for control. Your words, so casually spoken, were a potent aphrodisiac, fueling the fire that already burned within him. The feel of you against him, the heat radiating from your core, was intoxicating, clouding his judgment, making it hard to think straight.
The thought of skin on skin, of being completely, utterly connected to you, was a temptation he wasn’t sure he could resist. His gaze drifted up to your lips, then lower, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the way your hips moved against his. He could feel himself hardening even more, his body betraying his attempts at restraint.
“Fuck, noona,” He breathed. “Don’t say shit like that.”
“So?” you purred, meeting his gaze.
“I’m clean too. Put it in. Please.” The words were a raw plea, a confession of his surrender.
Another soft moan escaped you as you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance. You lowered yourself onto him inch by inch. The way he fit inside you felt achingly right, as if your bodies had been carved for each other.
Chan groaned as you took his full length in, his hands instinctively reaching for your waist, holding you tight against him. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening with passion, while you pushed him just a little to lay down so you could use his chest for support.
“Fuck,” he cursed out, griping your sides. “You feel so good.”
You began to move, slowly at first, teasing him with each gentle sway of your hips. The rhythm between you built, a slow, sensual dance that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your bodies. Chan’s hands tightened on your waist, guiding you, encouraging you, as he moaned softly, his head falling back against the pillows.
“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, voice rough. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.” He arched his back, pushing himself further into you. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he urged you on. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Another slow smile spread across your face. The power you held over him was intoxicating to you, maybe even a little dangerous to your ego. You leaned down, brushing your lips against his. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
You increased the tempo, your hips moving with a newfound urgency of driving him to the edge. The rhythm between you grew harder, more intense, driven by pure need.
You knew you were already close, that the precipice of orgasm was just within reach. The feeling was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely. Chan’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the tension building within him too, the pressure mounting with each thrust.
You continued to move, faster now, your bodies locked together in a frenzy of desire. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of him inside you, the heat, the overwhelming pleasure. You were lost in the moment, consumed by the fire that burned between you.
A low moan escaped your lips as he pressed against you, his fingers tracing tight circles around your most sensitive spot.
“Fuck, Chan,” you screamed, your head falling back, eyes closing as the pressure began to feel exquisite.
He peppered kisses across your chest and neck, his touch alternating between quick pinches and slow, tantalizing rolls of his thumb against your clit. Without warning, his hips surged upwards, driving him deeper inside you. You cried out his name again, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“That's it, baby,” he commanded, “scream my name.”
One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you against him, while the other braced him against the mattress. He began to thrust into you, a relentless rhythm that belied the fact that you were supposed to be the one in control. But neither of you cared. His cock felt so incredibly good inside you, your pussy clenching around him in a tight embrace.
“Chan!”
The head of his cock found that sweet spot deep within you, and he immediately noticed your reaction, repeating the movement, again and again, until stars began to burst behind your closed eyelids.
The more Chan rhythmically rubbed your clit, the more you felt yourself tightening around him, your release imminent. His breath hitched as you reached your peak, your body shuddering with release. He cried out your name, his own release following close behind as spilled himself inside you. You collapsed against him, your bodies still trembling, your hearts pounding in unison.
The world dissolved around you, the only thing that existed was the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible, lost in a sea of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His arms wrapped around you comfortingly, as if he were afraid you’d run away, and you buried your face in his neck, trying to regulate your breathing and savoring the aftershocks, the incredible feeling of your skin melded together.
Still buried inside you, Chan could hardly believe any of this was real. The reality of you, of this, was almost too much to comprehend. He felt the warmth of you surrounding him, the gentle pulse of your muscles contracting around him, a constant reminder of the incredible intimacy you shared. He looked down at you, your face flushed and relaxed, your eyes closed in contentment.
He traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb, marveling at the softness of your skin. It was real. You were real. And you were here, with him, wrapped in the aftermath of a moment that had left both of you breathless.
Chan wanted to stay like this forever, locked in this perfect intimacy, lost in the wonder of you. And he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he would do anything to keep it.
He brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, before confessing, “I wanted this for so long.”
Your eyelids fluttered open, and you met his eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Mmm,” you hummed, snuggling closer to him. “Me too.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, and Chan blinked. “Really?”
Certainly, he hadn’t expected that. He thought he was the only one clinging to this moment, the only one so deeply affected by it, that he was certain he was thoroughly gone for anyone else. The fact that you felt the same way, that you’d wanted this just as much as he had, sent a fresh wave of warmth through him.
You nodded, your smile widening. “Really, really,” you confirmed, fingers tracing the line of his beautiful jaw. “I’ve been wanting this… for longer than I care to admit.”
He felt a blush creeping up his neck, a mixture of pleasure and disbelief swirling within him.
“Wow,” he breathed. “I...I didn’t think…”
“Didn’t think what?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.
He hesitated, suddenly feeling shy again. “Didn’t think you felt the same way. I thought… I thought you were just a little bit out of my limit, I guess.”
Looking away for a moment, Chan suddenly felt fascinated by a stray thread on the sheet. Saying that out loud sounded ridiculous, he knew. Seungkwan and Vernon would probably laugh at him if they could hear him now. He was a grown ass man; a successful dancer, yet he felt like a nervous teenager confessing his feelings for the first time to the girl he had a silly little crush on.
Except it was no longer silly for him anymore, and he was sure the feeling burning in his chest was much bigger than a crush. Love? He preferred to think about it after the effects of the afterglow had worn off.
His mind was filled with something else. For instance, the fact that, once, he’d been so sure you were out of his reach, so convinced that he was lucky just to be in your orbit. To know that you felt the same way, that you saw him as an equal, was both exhilarating and terrifying.
You gently cupped his face in your hands, turning his gaze back to yours. “Out of your limit?” you echoed. “Channie, I’m so in your limit that is actually embarrassing. I’ve always been in your limit.”
He raised an eyebrow, another flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “Always?”
“From the moment I saw you on that stage, two years ago,” you confessed. “I saw something in you, something special. Something… that made me want to get to know you better.”
Chan chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. “And you weren’t scared off by my… awkwardness around you?”
You laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the room. “Your awkwardness is part of your charm,” you teased. “Besides,” you added, leaning in to whisper against his lips, “I can be pretty awkward myself sometimes.”
He grinned, his earlier shyness melting away. “Is that so?”
You nodded, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Absolutely. But you’ll have to stick around to find out just how awkward I can be.”
He chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “I think,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “I’m willing to take that risk.” Then he paused, a shadow crossing his face briefly. “Can I ask you something, tough?”
“Mhmm.”
“Jongin. Why… why did you date him?”
You sighed a hint of weariness in your eyes. You should have seen it coming.
“Honestly?” you began, “Because at the time, I didn’t think you were interested too.” You met his gaze, your eyes filled with honesty. “Like I said earlier, he showed me the kind of attention I thought I needed. He was… persistent. And you,” you paused, choosing your words carefully, “you seemed… distant. You ran away whenever I tried to talk to you. At least now I know why.”
He winced slightly, recognizing the truth in your words. He’d been so afraid of rejection that he’d inadvertently pushed you away. “I… I was an idiot.”
You smiled sadly. “We both were,” you shrugged. “But,” you added, a brighter note entering your voice, “we’re not idiots anymore.” You leaned in, kissing him softly. “And now,” you gave him another peck, “I have exactly what I want.”
Chan cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “Me too.” He pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you.”
“For what?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.
“For giving me a second chance.”
You pulled back slightly, searching for his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, baby,” you said softly, with a teasing smile playing on your lips. “You just came inside me, I think you earned it.”
A slow grin spread across his face, a mixture of amusement and pure adoration. His eyebrows raised suggestively.
“Oh, is that how it works?” he teased, his eyes sparkling. “So, every time I…you know…”
You laughed, playfully shoving him in the chest.
“Don’t get any ideas, Jimmy Neutron,” you said, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed your words. “I’m a tough negotiator. You’ll have to work a lot harder than that to earn my gratitude.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m a very hard worker. And, I’m more than happy to put in the overtime for you.”
“We’ll see about that,” you whispered against his lips, though the smile playing on your face suggested you were more than willing to let him try. “You’re incredible, Lee Chan. Don’t ever forget that.”
He smiled, his heart overflowing with love. “I won’t,” he promised. “Not anymore.”
Not even seconds before he fully opened his eyes, Chan already had a smile on his face.
His arm instinctively reached for you, only to find you already curled against him, leg thrown over his, your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your hand sprawled across his bare chest like it had always belonged there. His shirt — the one you’d stolen off the floor around 3 a.m — was hanging loosely on your body, oversized, and entirely too intimate. Your soft breath tickled his chest, and he couldn’t help but smile wilder, fingers lazily tracing circles on your bare shoulder.
He loved that sight. Your sight. It felt like a livid dream.
Except he knew this wasn’t a dream because last night replayed in his mind on repeat. Every whispered word, every touch, every breathless plea. He had thought about it for so long, imagined it in so many ways and scenarios. Yet, nothing compared to the reality of holding you now.
Morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains, bathing the room—and you—in a soft golden glow. Chan swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you in that moment: peaceful, warm, and completely wrapped up in him. His heart swelled as he took in the way your lashes fluttered slightly, the way your fingers still clutched at his arm like you never wanted to let him go.
God, only if you knew.
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, tightening his arm around your for a bit. You only stirred slightly, nuzzling closer to him with a soft sigh. Chan chuckled under his breath, his hand running down your back soothingly. He wanted to stay like this forever, stay with you here forever. But he also wanted you to feel welcomed in his house, to make you never want to leave.
So carefully, Chan slid out from under you, heart pounding as he sat at the edge of the bed. You curled into the warm spot he left behind, sighing softly like his scent comforted you. He had to bury his face in his hand to keep from screaming into them.
With a quick look around his room — the clothes on the floor, shoes scattered as if they had been thrown off their feet, the hoodie you’d worn discarded on his desk chair — and exhaled a shaky, lovesick breath.
Yeah, he was a total lovesick puppy, and honestly? He didn’t mind admitting it one bit.
Taking just one more look at you sleeping in his bed, dressed in his clothes, looking very much like an angel sent from up above, Chan smiled. He took a mental picture of the sight, hoping it would be the first of many, then slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door without a sound.
The first thing he saw when he entered the kitchen was Vernon pouring cereal like a man who hadn’t slept in three days and was on the verge of starvation. Seungkwan was slumped over the counter, half-dead, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Both looked up when Chan walked in wearing nothing but sweats and a very evident bruised neck.
Seungkwan squinted. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” Chan asked, voice definitely not and octave higher. The look on their faces said it all; they already knew he had something to say. He was terrible at pretending to be nonchalant.
“Like you’re thrilled to be alive,” Vernon added, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth. “Did you see god or something?”
Very close.
Chan opened the fridge just to have something to hide behind. “I didn’t see God. I just… had a very good night.”
Seungkwan snorted loudly. “You? A good night? With who? Your pillow?”
“Actually…” Chan closed the fridge door, trying his absolute hardest to be casual. “Y/N and I—”
They both rolled their eyes as if to say, ‘here we go again with this subject,’ and Chan did his best to hide the smile threatening to appear on his lips, along with the urge to shout to the four corners of the apartment about what had happened last night. Of course, he held back, because you were sleeping like an angel in his sheets, and he would never risk disturbing you.
“Chan, seriously,” Seungkwan said, exhausted. “It’s time to let it go. You couldn’t even speak in front of her last night.”
Vernon nodded. “Pretty sure her boyfriend came to pick her up anyway.”
“Could you let me finish?” Chan huffed, arms crossing over his bare chest. “As I was saying, Y/N and I… we kinda talked. A lot. And then we… uhm… we—”
“Are you high right now?” Seungkwan cut in.
He blinked. “What?”
“Why are you referring to you and Y/N as ‘we’?”
“Because… last night we finally…”
Vernon stared at him, monotone as always. “You didn’t.”
“I DID!” Chan whisper-yelled, pointing vaguely toward his bedroom. “She was wearing my hoodie and then we talked and the she kissed me and—”
Seungkwan burst into laughter so loud it echoed. “Okay, sweetheart. I love you, but you dreamed that. No way Y/N was in your room last night.”
“I didn’t dream it!”
“You definitely did,” Vernon said, crunching cereal like this was a court trial. “You were drunk. Did you use that thing I bought Wednesday? Seungyoun said the trip was insane—”
Chan groaned. “Guys, I’m serious.”
Seungkawn patted his shoulder sympathetically, shooting his voice like he was speaking to a child. “It’s okay, buddy. One day you’ll kiss her for real. Just maybe not in your dreams next time. Okay?
He opened his mouth to argue, but footsteps echoed down the hallway, making Vernon and Seungkwan look over and watch intently. It didn’t take long for Chan to notice their eyes growing wide in their socket, almost popping out. Vernon dropped the cereal bowl, while Seungkwan looked like his soul had been yanked straight out of his body and shoved back in, choking violently on his iced coffee.
And there you were.
Smiling shyly. Sleepy-messy hair. Bare legs. Chan’s oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder like it was made for you. Blinking in the sunlight and looking way too soft and way too pretty for this hour, and for anyone else’s eyes; he should be the only one allowed to see you like this from now on.
You walked over to Chan like it was the most normal thing in the world, wrapped your arms around his neck, and stood on your toes to peck his lips.
“Morning,” you murmured against his lips.
He smiled into the kiss. Vernon and Seungkwan were nothing but white noise now. “Good morning, beautiful. Sleep okay?”
“Like a baby.” Then you finally noticed the two frozen men staring at you. “Oh—hi. Good morning. Do you guys have coffee?”
Seungkwan made a noise so high-pitched only dogs could hear it.
Vernon blinked slowly. “Bro.”
Chan shrugged at them with a smug little smile, arm slipping around your waist. From now on, it was the one place it belonged.
“Told you.”
# NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
Every ask & comment gives me life 💗 If you’re enjoying it, don’t forget to reblog, helps so much and gets the fic out there!!
back to you ,, jeon jungkook — index ,, mdni / nsfw
ch:06 ; call me baby / / jk x you — no gc this chap , totally "friendly/platonic" conversation 🤓 , continuation of ch05 - like.. it's the same day / / gimme ur thots abt them <3
pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. streamer!jungkook. roommates au. smut. friends with benefits. friends to lovers.
with one bathroom in the apartment and jungkook’s strict streaming schedule, he’s left with no choice but to join you in the shower.
word count. 5.9k words warnings. they shower together duh. bold words are in korean (oc is not korean, she just understands korean a little bc of jungkook). HORNY OC #OVULATION. hes a lil cocky shit in this. smut. fem!masturbation. use of toy. she gets off to his voice. fingering. oral (fem!receiving). MUNCH !! HE RUBS HIS NOSE AGAINST HER CLIT. face grinding. tongue fucking.
ana’s notes. this is just the beginning .. HEHEHE
NEXT ⟡ SERIES MASTERPOST
There was always a fine line between you and Jungkook.
You could use his coffee machine — but you couldn’t use all of his coffee grinds. He could use your bunny headband — but your face wash was strictly yours.
Some things, though, you were just bound to share. Like toothpaste. The same cups. The same towel once… accidentally.
And especially the shower. Since there was only one bathroom.
It was a constant battle. You always took ridiculously long to shower. Sometimes it was because you were genuinely scrubbing your skin and washing your hair for an hour, or shaving. Most times, it was because the water felt too good — relaxing your muscles until you couldn’t bring yourself to get out.
Meanwhile, Jungkook would be on the other side of the door, pounding and telling you to hurry up because he had to take a leak. And when you didn’t answer, he’d just come in and do it anyway. It wasn’t weird — you two had been friends since you were teenagers. Besides, when you gotta go, you gotta go.
And just like all those other days, here he was again, banging on the door and yelling for you to hurry up.
You rolled your eyes, trying to drown out his voice and lose yourself in the scorching water pouring on your skin. You’d spent the entire morning replying to hundreds of emails, your back aching from hours of hunching over your desk, your neck stiff from turtleneck posture. You just wanted this — a long, hot shower, and the rest of the day to finally relax.
Until you hear an aggravating voice calling your name.
“Please hurry up! I have to stream in a bit and I need to shower!” Jungkook shouts from the other side of the door.
“Kook, I just got in!” you yell back, head tipping back in frustration.
“No, you haven’t! You’ve been in there for half an hour!”
“Well, you’re gonna have to wait!”
He groans, then shouts your name again. “I’m so serious, if you don’t hurry up, I’m going in there with you!”
“Well, I’m not getting out!” you say back.
And with that, Jungkook twists the doorknob and walks in.
“You’re not serious!” you exclaim, seeing his blurry silhouette through the fogged up shower door.
“You left me with no choice, bro,” he says, already stripping his clothes off.
You don’t say another word, completely flabbergasted.
There’s no way.
Before you could doubt him again, the door opens and he steps into the tiny shower with you, one hand on your bare back as he nudges you forward to make room.
“Jungkook!” you scream, covering your breasts.
“Fuck, why’s it so damn hot in here?” he says, leaning forward and adjusting the water, his bare chest brushing against your back.
“This is so weird, Kook.” you mutter, turning slightly to glare up at him.
“Relax. I won’t even look at you,” he says, eyes squeezed shut as he lathers shampoo through his hair. “I just need to wash up and I’ll be out.”
You try not to look either — you really do — but he’s right there. Water and soap slide down the solid lines of his chest, tracing the dip of his toned stomach before disappearing out of sight. Your gaze follows before you can stop it, curiosity flickering where it shouldn’t. He’s so big, even on soft.
You swallow hard, snapping yourself out of it. Then you turn around and push him back a little, his chest firm beneath your palm.
“You’re hogging, dude. I need to wash my conditioner out.”
His eyes stay shut, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth. “No one’s stopping you.”
You’re facing him — way too close for comfort — as you tilt your head back under the water. He finally opens his eyes, but his gaze stays low, focused on the way he scrubs his torso with the washcloth. Foam and bubbles lather over his skin, gliding down the water.
It’s respectful, really. How he isn’t ogling at you — a naked woman right in front of him — like any other man would. And somehow, that only makes it worse. Makes you want him to look.
God, you can barely breathe. He’s so close. His knuckles brush your ribs, a light bump that sends a jolt through you.
“Sorry,” he says in Korean, though his tone is completely casual.
You blink at him. What the fuck? How the hell is he so calm about this? You two have never seen each other naked — not that there was ever a reason to. Are you overthinking it?
He cracks one eye open, catching you before you can even look away. You’re still staring at his chest as he scrubs, and he lets out a low, breathy chuckle.
“Y’know, you're staring real hard for someone who said this was weird,” he teases.
Your eyes snap up, wide. “Shut up. You’re weird.”
“Hm. Okay, perv,” he says with a lazy grin.
“Just- hurry up and get out!” you snap, turning back toward the water to hide your face.
“Well, someone’s hogging the water!” he retorts.
“Hmph!” you huff, crossing your arms before stepping aside to let him under the water.
He rinses the soap from his hair, water streaming down his body and splashing everywhere like a wet dog — droplets hitting you from every direction. Annoyed, you twist the shower to hot, and when the water heats up, Jungkook yelps.
“Bro, you’re actually so annoying. C’mere!” he laughs, grabbing your shoulder and pulling you under the stream with him as he shifts it to freezing cold.
Your back collides with his slippery front, his arm instinctively looping around your waist to steady you. The sudden contact steals your breath — but before you can even process it, the cold water hits, and you let out a scream.
“Jungkook, please!” you shriek, trying to pry his arm off your waist.
“Brat,” he laughs, holding you in place as the freezing water pours down on both of you.
“Jungkook!” you shout again, squealing. “I’m genuinely going to kill you!”
He just laughs harder. Meanwhile, you can barely breathe through your shivers. Goosebumps start to form on your skin, but you can’t tell if it’s from the cold water or Jungkook’s cock pressing into you.
“Okay, seriously! It’s cold and I can feel your dick in my ass, dude!” you finally gasp, twisting in his grip.
He finally releases you and you immediately turn the water back to hot, the rush of warmth hitting your skin in relief and the glass immediately fogging up. He’s still laughing as he opens the shower door, grabbing his towel from the rack and getting out.
“Annoying ass,” you mutter, brushing water from your face.
“Yeah, yeah. Pervert,” he says back, wrapping the towel around his waist as his eyes flicker down to your chest.
“You just looked at my boobs!” you exclaim, brows knitted.
He shrugs. “You were looking at mine first?”
You grab the shower door handle and slam it shut. “Next time, I’m locking the door!”
“Yeah, and try showering faster!” he calls back, leaving the bathroom and shutting the door with a click.
Jungkook has always just been your best friend.
He’s funny, dorky, and has that annoying boyish charm that somehow made him impossible to stay mad at. You’d known him forever — too long to ever think of him that way.
But ever since he hopped in the shower with you the other day, your brain wouldn’t shut up. You kept replaying it — the proximity, his skin against yours, his cock literally pressed up against your ass. And now, every time he walked by, you couldn’t act normal without feeling carnal.
How could you not? It's not exactly normal to shower with your best friend. And this was all his fault, anyway!
You started seeing Jungkook in a completely different light.
The air got colder, and he was back to living in hoodies — cozy, oversized ones that made him look effortlessly attractive in a boyfriend way. His hair was always messy, his face bare, and every time he walked around, you’d get that swooning girly feeling.
And even worse? The sweats. The fucking sweats. The way they hung low on his hips, the way they showed too much. His print visible through the fabric, reminding you how absolutely hung he is.
God, you are a pervert.
You’ve been avoiding him. Leaving the room whenever he walks in. He hasn’t noticed yet — or maybe he has, but he hasn’t said anything about it.
Working from home didn’t help either. You were stuck in the apartment with him every hour of the day since he worked from home too. Your earphones and endless emails were enough to distract you for a while, but once the day ended and you were left in bed with nothing but your thoughts, it got bad.
And it was especially worse when you could hear his voice.
“Chat, I’m not taking off my hoodie,” you hear him say from his room, muffled but still clear through the thin wall. “It’s cold and I’m not wearing anything underneath.”
Then he laughs — low and knowing.
Fuck.
You’d checked your period tracker earlier. Of course you were ovulating. That probably explained why every little thing he did suddenly aroused you ten times harder.
The ache between your thighs had been building all evening, a throbbing inconvenience that no amount of ignoring could make go away. Your pink vibrator sat in the bedside drawer, tempting, calling your name like a ritual. Quickly, you slid it open, fingers wrapping around the silicone toy.
You pushed the button, and the persistent buzz filled the room. The walls in this apartment were ridiculously thin; every word came through like he was right there with you. You could hear him, his voice pushing through the barrier as he flirts with his viewers like the little tease he is. If you were able to hear him, he could definitely hear this toy's relentless whirring.
But you didn’t give a single fuck — you needed this too badly to stop or care.
Impatiently, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and panties, yanking them down in one swift motion. The cool air hits your wet and swollen heat, pussy clenching in anticipation and need. You spread your legs slightly on the bed, the sheets crumpling beneath you and you positioned the vibrator.
Then you hear his voice again. “Take it off anyway? Yo, chat! Behave!” He giggles softly.
Why did that make you even hornier? Imagining him there, taking his hoodie off and streaming shirtless, feeding his audience what they want. It makes you wonder if he’ll give you what you want. The thought has you trailing the buzzing tip along your inner thigh first, teasing yourself. Finally, you pressed it firmly against your clit.
The contact was intense — vibrations pulsing directly into that sensitive bud full of nerves. Your body jerked involuntarily, hips bucking as a sharp wave of pleasure shot throughout you, making your toes curl. You cursed quietly, a soft moan escaping before you bit down on your lower lip.
On the other side of the hall, he drives you to your edge quicker. “No! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungkook chants, the words tumbling out in frustration. A deep groan followed, guttural and unrestrained. “Goddamnit! I was so close, then I fucking sold!”
He’s losing his shit over a game while you were about to cum from the pathetic sounds he was making.
You circled the vibrator slower now, grinding it against your clit in deliberate movements, the wetness coating the toy. Each stroke sent your nerves radiating, your pussy aching to be filled, but for now, this was enough — more than enough with his oblivious presence so close.
You clamped a hand over your mouth, fingers digging into your cheek as your back arched off the bed. The vibrator thrummed at its highest speed now, the intense vibrations assaulting your clit relentlessly. All that lust you’d been bottling up poured out in a flood of slick heat between your thighs.
Living with Jeon Jungkook was torturous…
“Chat, one more round or should I end stream for the night?” His tone was casual, yet had you in full effect — oblivious to the way your pussy throbbed at the rasp in his voice.
A muffled moan escaped despite your efforts, vibrating against your palm. Your hips lift from the mattress, grinding your swollen clit harder against the toy. You can feel it coming — the tight coil in your tummy twisting, your walls clenching around the toy as arousal leaks profusely out of you.
“One more round? Alright, just for you,” he replied to his viewers — that signature giggle slipping out, the one he does when he knows the girls and gays are already folding over the simplest things he does.
But you weren’t some thirsty fan in his chat. No, Jungkook’s effect on you ran way deeper than that — a constant simmer that turned into this frantic need to fuck yourself while listening to him.
You threw your head back against the pillow, neck straining as you bit down on your knuckle, teeth sinking into skin to muffle the moan clawing up your throat. The pressure surged to its peak, your body locking up as the orgasm took over.
Your clit pulsed under the vibrator’s assault as the pleasure exploded, making your toes curl and your back arch. Slick seeped out of you, coating your fingers and the toy, the wet sounds barely audible over the buzz and your ragged breathing.
As you came down from your high, the overstimulation became too much. You yanked the vibrator away with a gasp, fumbling to turn it off, the sudden silence deafening — you could hear Jungkook tapping away at his keyboard, finger clicking down on the mouse. The toy rolled away as you tossed it somewhere on your bed, too spent to care about the mess on it right now.
One thing was clear: you hadn’t felt like that in far too long — your thighs shaking uncontrollably, your sopping heat still throbbing hypersensitively, that deep, aching relief lingering in your lower stomach. The raw force of it drained you, a sluggish feeling in your limbs.
Post nut clarity hit you like a truck, shame and guilt starting to eat at you: you came harder than ever, all because you were fantasizing about Jungkook, your best friend. That incident in the shower and all the glances you stole — his wet skin glistening under the water, those thick, muscular arms flexing as he lathered soap all over his body, and his heavy cock hanging between his thighs. It had all ignited this secret explosion of lust. It wasn’t forbidden, but it had felt that way since you’d never thought about him like this.
Now, the idea of him walking by while you were in the living room, or coming into the kitchen behind you, peering over your shoulder to see what was for dinner — it all makes your tummy flutter, like a stupid crush.
No way you could keep living like this.
You managed to successfully avoid Jungkook for the rest of the week. Not that it was difficult — he’d been too busy with his streaming schedule, headset on and door shut most of the time.
It was ironic, really — living with Jungkook and yet not seeing him for days.
Still, you weren’t taking any risks. You’d started taking quicker showers — gosh, you missed standing under the water until your skin steamed. You hadn’t cooked in days either, constantly dragging Jennie out for dinner or inviting yourself over to her place instead.
Now, the cold air had your hands trembling as you tried to fit the key into the lock. After a few fumbling attempts, it finally clicked, and you pushed the door open, grateful to step inside the warm apartment.
You’d just come back from Jennie’s place after a cozy pasta dinner for two. She had joked about you moving in with her instead, just so you could cook for her like that every night.
And damn, maybe you should’ve considered her offer — because the moment you walk into the apartment, Jungkook’s already there in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up and a pan on the stove. He must’ve just finished streaming. Poor baby probably hadn’t eaten all day until now.
On other days, you’d cook for the both of you. But tonight, you couldn’t shake the guilt crawling up your spine.
“Hey,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as you step inside.
“Hi,” you reply, quick and polite.
But suspicious.
Normally, you’d linger — maybe steal a bite of whatever he was cooking or tease him about the mess he was making. Instead, you head straight for your room without another word.
Jungkook’s brows knit together. That just won’t do.
Your door’s already shut by the time he follows, knuckles tapping against the wood.
You scrunch up your nose, already dreading the conversation you’re about to have with him. How do you tell your best friend of years that you feel guilty because you got off to his voice?
“Come in,” you call, trying to sound casual.
He walks in — looking good as ever. His hair is tousled, his hoodie hanging loose but still fitting him perfectly.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
Shit.
You shrug off your jacket and toss it into the hamper. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You seem… weird.”
You sigh, turning away from him as you open your laptop, pretending to be busy. “Really, I’m okay.”
It’s quiet for a moment. And just when you expect to hear the door close, you hear him instead.
“Did something happen while you were out?” he asks, voice soft but worried.
You turn around to face him — brows slightly furrowed, that worry in his eyes making your chest tighten.
“No,“ you glance away, fumbling for composure. “I swear, everything’s okay.”
He still doesn’t look convinced.
“Then why won’t you look at me?” he presses.
You let out a nervous laugh. “I’m looking at you!”
You’re not. You’re very pointedly looking anywhere but at him — specifically at your nightstand. Yeah. That one.
“You’re not!” he whines.
“Jungkook, please.” You shut your eyes, trying to sound firm, though your anxiety betrays you.
“No! If something is wrong, you can tell me!” he insists, voice mixed with worry and frustration now. He takes a few steps closer.
“I said everything’s okay! Why won’t you just believe me?” you shoot back, finally looking up at him — a mistake, because he looks unfairly good even when he’s upset. Eyes bigger somehow, brows knitted in that way that makes him look both worried and boyishly stubborn.
“Because you’re not being believeable?” he says, as if obvious.
You sigh, looking down at your hands in your lap, the guilt gnawing away.
Then, quieter, almost hesitant. “Did… did I make you uncomfortable that day?”
Your head snaps up. There it is — the forbidden topic neither of you had spoken about since it happened. It feels foreign, like it shouldn’t have been brought up, but here it is anyway — being brought up.
“No, you didn’t,” you say quickly, almost too quickly. But he still doesn’t look convinced. “Kook, no. I swear you didn’t make me uncomfortable.”
“Then what’s wrong?” he asks, almost pleading now. He knows you too well — knows the difference between you’re fine and you’re pretending to be fine.
“It’s me, okay?” you blurt out, looking away. “That wasn’t exactly a boundary we should’ve crossed as friends, and now….” You exhale shakily, cheeks getting warm. “Now I feel guilty because I can’t stop thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t.”
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
You can feel his gaze burning into you, and every inch of your body wants to sink straight to the floor. You brace yourself for it — for him to laugh and tell you he doesn’t see you that way. Or tell you you’re like a little sister to him. Either way, you’re already planning to text Jennie and tell her you’re moving in, because there’s no way you’re surviving this humiliation.
“You’ve… been fantasizing about me?”
Your head snaps up. A smug, satisfied look plastered all over his face — it has ego written all over it. His lips curl into a slow, teasing smirk, and his hands slip casually into the pockets of his sweats like he’s enjoying this way too much.
Of course he is. Of course this cocky little shit would love hearing that.
You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “Oh my god, Jungkook, you actually need to die.”
“That’s basically what you said, though!” he argues, clearly entertained.
You drop your hands and glare at him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he asks, tilting his head, that little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he takes a step closer.
“Don’t be annoying.”
“Okay,” he says, hands raised in surrender — though he quickly slips them back into his pockets, that smirk turning into a soft smile. “I’m sorry.”
Your lips press into a thin line, your face hot. “Well?”
“What?” he asks, blinking at you like he’s clueless.
“Aren’t you going to reject me?” you ask, exasperated. “Actually, do it now so I can start packing.”
He just chuckles quietly. No rejection. No teasing comeback like he usually would’ve done.
“Come here,” he says, nodding his head toward himself.
“Jungkook…” you hesitate.
“Come here,” he repeats, firmer this time — his voice deeper, leaving no room for argument.
You roll your eyes before finally pushing yourself up, dragging your feet toward him like you’re walking into something you shouldn’t.
Once you stop in front of him, Jungkook’s hand slides around your arm — firm but gentle — and he guides you down until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You sit, confused, eyes darting up at him.
“What are you trying to do?” you ask warily.
Instead of answering, he kneels down in front of you. His face is level with yours now, expression unreadable but somehow still soft.
“Whatever happened to that guy you were hooking up with?” he asks suddenly.
“Eunwoo?” you blink, caught off guard. “We stopped.”
He hums, leaning in slightly. “And since then?”
You hesitate, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “It’s… been a while.”
His tongue clicks as his lips curve. “You poor thing.” He plants his forearms on either side of your thighs, caging you in. “No wonder you got all weird after the shower.”
You roll your eyes and shove lightly at his chest. “Shut up.”
He laughs teasingly, but doesn’t budge.
“And you?” you ask, lifting your chin, trying to stabilize your voice.
He tilts his head, smiling faintly. “Nope. Too busy streaming.”
He’s so close now, closer than he’s ever been — even closer than that incident in the shower. Your heart pounds vigorously in your chest, your frantic heartbeat echoing in your ears, and you’re sure he can hear it too. Heat floods your face, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“So… if you want to…” he murmurs, leaning in even more until his breath fans hot against your lips.
“Don’t you have a bunch of streamer girls you know that you could fuck instead?” you ask, breath hitching as your thighs clench together instinctively, trying to subdue the ache between them.
“Don’t want them,” he whispers as he closes the gap further.
His lips brush yours — not a full kiss yet, just a tentative bump, testing the waters, giving you the chance to pull back if you want to. But you don’t. You can’t.
The moment stretches, and then he crashes into you like a man starved. His mouth claims yours, lips soft yet demanding, tasting faintly of the sweet balm he slathers on after every shower. His tongue slips past your parted lips, exploring, tangling with yours.
His hands roam boldly now, sliding around your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. He pulls you flush against him, trapping you completely in his grip, your body pinned by his solid weight.
With a sudden surge, he lunges forward, laying you down. He hovers over you, lips never leaving yours, devouring you with sloppy, urgent kisses, sucking on your lower lip before diving back in to taste every flavor of your mouth.
One hand trails downward, slipping beneath the waistband of your leggings and panties. His palm is surprisingly warm, contrasting deliciously against your colder skin from the air outside.
He wastes no time, fingers delving lower until his middle one grazes your sopping pussy. You’re already so wet, warm slick coating his digits as it profusely drips out. The first touch sends a jolt through you, your hips bucking.
He adds another finger, pressing it firmly against the sensitive bud, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. A muffled moan escapes, vibrating against Jungkook’s mouth.
You break the kiss, turning your head to the side, teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out louder.
“How long exactly is a while?” he asks, voice husky, laced with amusement.
God, you’re not even facing him, but you can hear that smug smirk in his tone, feel it in the way his fingers pause just to tease.
“Five months,” you gasp out, the admission hanging heavy in the air, your body trembling under his touch.
He doesn’t respond with words — just pushes two fingers deep inside your soaked pussy. Your walls clench around the intrusion, slick heat welcoming him, and you throw your head back with an audible moan.
He leans down, lips finding the curve of your neck, starting with a gentle kitten lick of his tongue before his teeth graze the skin. He bites down — not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to mark, sucking the spot until you feel the delicious sting straight to your core.
Your hands fly up, cupping his face, thumbs brushing his sharp jawline as you pull him back into a feverish kiss. Tongues messily clash again. In response, his hand inside your pants speeds up, fingers thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm. The squelching of your arousal grows louder, filling the room.
“You haven’t eaten today, have you?” you manage through moans, your thumb rubbing soothing circles over the apple of his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch.
He chuckles low in his throat, the vibration rumbling against your lips as he leans into your hand. “You’re really doing this right now?”
“I-“ Your words cut off as his fingers curl sharply inside you, pressing against your inner walls with precision. A moan rips from your throat, your body shuddering. “I feel bad. Haven’t been cooking for you because I was embarrassed.”
“Don’t. That’s not your job,” he says, his smile evident in his voice, eyes gleaming at how sensitive you are, how every twitch and gasp fuels his ego.
“Don’t wanna starve you,” you whimper, the words tumbling out through the haze of pleasure.
“No?” He tilts his head, that playful dominance shining through as he watches your face contort.
You hum in agreement, shaking your head weakly.
“Okay, I’ll eat then,” he says.
He withdraws his fingers slowly, the sudden emptiness making you whine in protest, your pussy clenching around nothing as your sticky arousal gets on your thighs.
You exhale shakily, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath, but before you could regulate your breathing, Jungkook’s hands are at your waistband. With a forceful tug, he pulls your leggings and panties down your legs in one rough motion.
“Jungkook!” you exclaim, voice pitching higher as embarrassment floods. “What’re you doing!”
“About to eat,” he replies casually, kneeling between your legs hanging at the edge of the bed. “Since you’re so worried about my appetite.”
“This is not what I meant,” you protest, thighs closing in futile attempt to hide.
“Come on,” he whined in Korean, playful but insistent, his accent thick. His hands gently but firmly pry at your knees. “Been a while, hasn’t it? Let me take care of you.”
“Do not use that against me!” you whine back.
He switches tactics, those pleasing eyes boring into yours, one hand resting warmly on your knee.
You’ve thought about this for days now. The cool press of his lip rings against you, how good he is with his tongue. The thought alone makes more arousal seep out of your entrance. Your legs part instinctively, opening wide for him, a silent invitation.
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, dimple peeking as he leans in. He starts with soft kisses along your inner thigh, nipping lightly at the skin until goosebumps erupt. His eyes stay fixed on yours, intense and unwavering. But the intimacy gets too much, and you avert your gaze to the side, biting your lip again.
He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your thigh. “Look at me.”
Obediently, though with a hint of attitude in your narrowed eyes, you turn back, meeting his stare. It feels exposing, vulnerable, but the command in his voice sends even more arousal out of you.
He pushes your thighs wider, fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold you splayed open, your pussy on full display — swollen, wet, clit begging for attention.
Finally, he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your heated core, making you shiver. His tongue darts out, licking a stripe right over your sensitive clit. Immediately, a sharp wave of pleasure shoots down your spine, your hips jerking into his mouth further. Your thighs quiver, instinctively trying to close in on his head, but his grip is stronger, keeping you spread at his mercy.
He holds your gaze as he buries his face deeper, the metal of his lip rings against your folds. His mouth latches onto your clit fully now, lips sealing around the bud as he sucks — gentle at first, then harder, tongue flicking rapidly against it.
The suction pulls a quiet moan from your open mouth, your back arching, pressure building in your lower tummy. Slick coats his chin, dripping down as he devours you, humming in approval at your taste, the vibrations adding another blissful yet tormenting sensation.
He lowers his face further, his tongue extending to lap directly into your sopping entrance. The tip of his tongue presses inside, tasting your arousal, swirling against your inner walls as he gathers more of your juices. Then, his nose nudges firmly against your swollen clit, the firm bridge bumping it with just the right pressure.
“Y- yes, Kook, right there,” you moan, the words spilling out in a breathy plea as you lean back on one arm, propping yourself up to watch him work, your free hand gripping onto the sheets.
He starts moving his head up and down in a steady rhythm, the rounded tip of his nose circling and pressing into the throbbing nub, intensifying the friction. His tongue stays buried inside your pussy, thrusting shallowly, lapping up your warm slick.
A deep hum vibrates from his throat, the sound muffled against your heat, like he’s seeking your approval or praise, dark eyes flickering up to lock onto yours. The lower half of his face is completely buried deep between your spread thighs.
You nod frantically, eyebrows knitting together in ecstasy, your bottom lip caught so tightly between your teeth that you’re convinced you might’ve drawn blood. “Fuck, yes, just like that,” you gasp, the praise fueling him as your body trembles.
Jungkook’s own brows furrow in concentration and bliss, his expression twisting like he’s savoring the richest feast imaginable — and he is, devouring your pussy with all his focus. Breathing is a challenge with your thighs clamped around his ears and your pussy coating his mouth and nose, but the thought doesn’t discourage him; he’d gladly suffocate between your legs.
His gaze never wavers from your face, taking in every detail: the way your features contort in pleasure, eyes half-lidded and glassy, your lower lip now visibly swollen from the abuse of your teeth.
Driven by your reactions, he shoves his face even deeper, the hard ridge of his nose bone grinding harder against your clit, providing relentless friction that builds the coil in your tummy tighter. His tongue plunges further inside, fucking into your pussy with wet, slurping strokes that echo obscenely in the room, pushing you toward the brink.
“Jungkook, baby, I’m already so close,” you moan, your voice coming out hoarse and hushed, strained from all the moaning and restraint.
Your hips start to rock subtly against his mouth, and he hums again — the low vibration rumbling straight through your core, making your clit pulse against his nose and your inner walls clench around his invading tongue. That sensation ignites something within you — your hips buck forward, grinding harder into his face, chasing the pressure as you smear more slick across his skin.
You throw your head back as louder moans tear from your throat, your entire body flushing hot, skin prickling with sweat. The orgasm crashes over you, seizing your muscles in a frozen moment of pure intensity before you convulse, thighs shutting around his head, pussy clenching as your cries fill the room.
After a few blissful seconds, the aftershocks turn into overstimulation, the continuous lap of his tongue and nudge of his nose becoming too much on your hypersensitive nerves.
“Okay! Okay!” you giggle breathlessly as you push at his shoulder with your foot, trying to create some distance while your body still twitches.
Jungkook finally pulls back with a low, guttural moan, his tongue darting out to lick his lips clean of your essence, savoring the sweet taste. He rises slowly, crawling up your body, his eyes low and dark with lust.
You haven’t laid a single hand on his cock yet, but he looks utterly wrecked — face flushed a deep pink, hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead with sweat. Your arousal glistens across the entire lower half of his face, from his chin to the bridge of his nose.
“Your face is all wet!” you giggle again.
He doesn’t respond verbally, just leans down to capture your lips in soft, lingering pecks, as if he suddenly can’t be apart from you for even a moment, sharing the faint tang of your own essence between you.
“Alright, munch,” you say with a teasing lilt, pressing your palms against his chest to create space, sitting up alongside him on the bed. “Go wash up.”
“Fine, fine,” he succumbs, getting off you with exaggerated defeat, hands raised in mock surrender as he stumbles to his feet, legs a bit unsteady like he’s had one too many drinks, his bulge straining obviously against his sweats.
“Need help with that?” you ask, your voice light and teasing, eyes flicking pointedly to the obvious problem between his legs.
“Nah,” he groans, the sound low and rough. “You rest, I’ll take care of it.”
“And eat a real meal, please?” you call after him, voice laced with affectionate concern as he heads toward the bathroom.
“I just did!” he yells back, the playful retort echoing down the hall, followed by the sound of running water.
You snort, a hand coming up to cover your face as laughter bubbles out.
Yeah, you wouldn’t be texting Jennie tonight. You’re right where you want to be.
summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.
after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?
pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader
genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst
word count: 7.7k
warnings: swearing, they actually talk about their feelings :0, explicit sexual content (mdni), kissing, making out, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (be smarter than them pls), a bit of banter, petnames (baby), they're really fucking cute in the end it makes me sick, let me know if i missed anything!
notes: idk if this counts as my first completed series buttt... i'm gonna act like it does. thank you so so much to all the love and support you guys have given me for the past two parts, i'm genuinely so beyond grateful for it all :<< hopefully, you guys enjoy this part too!!
ps. READ PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE!!
⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback
You open his chat window again like it’s muscle memory. Like your thumb doesn’t know how to not betray you.
It’s not even about sending something. You’ve got no intention of doing that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But the screen is always open, staring back at you with that last unread message you sent almost a week ago — a throwaway meme you found on your lunch break. No reply. Not even a reaction.
And it hadn’t felt like a big deal in the moment. You sent it like always, light and dumb and nothing. But then the nothing kept going. No little gray typing bubble. No 'lol.' No double text. No late night 'you up?' Just this wall of silence.
You would’ve rather gotten a dry reply. Hell, even a thumbs up. Anything to prove that he saw you.
But now it’s been long enough that sending something new would feel desperate. Like you’re chasing him. Like you’re asking for something you’re not even supposed to want.
You lock your phone and throw it face down on your bed.
Then pick it back up five seconds later.
Then toss it again, harder, as if that’ll prove something.
You wish you were mad. You think you are mad — at least a little. But it’s a tangled kind of anger. One that knots itself up with embarrassment and sharp, bitter shame. You want to scream at him, yeah. But also at yourself.
Why did you let this happen?
Why did you let him blur the lines and kiss you like that and touch you like he meant it?
You were supposed to be smarter than this.
You lie back across your bed with one arm flung over your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. It was just sex. Just two nights. Two insanely good, dangerously close, way-too-connected nights. But still — technically just sex.
Except it wasn’t.
Not when he remembered your favourite sauce order without asking. Not when he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear while you ranted about work.
And especially not when he went cold the second things felt too good.
That’s what keeps twisting the knife. That shift in him. Like someone flipped a switch and rewrote the script. One minute, he was holding you like you mattered. The next, you were stepping out of his bathroom and into a stranger’s apartment.
You haven’t heard his voice since.
You bite the inside of your cheek and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down that lump of feeling before it rises too high.
It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re overthinking it.
Maybe he’s just going through something. Maybe he didn’t mean to shut you out. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to hear from him. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward who got scared when the stakes changed.
But then, why didn’t you reach out?
Why didn’t you ask if he was okay, or tell him he was being weird, or demand an explanation like you’re owed one?
Because you’re afraid.
Because you don’t want the truth if the truth is that he regrets all of it.
Because deep down, you know this isn’t just a friendship anymore, and pretending it is would break you worse than silence.
Your phone buzzes once on the comforter beside you.
You freeze. Then sit up fast, breath catching halfway in your throat.
Your eyes are already scanning the screen before your brain can fully catch up.
Kook 🍜: hi
One word. Just hi. Like the last seven days didn’t happen. Like your stomach hasn’t been in knots trying to make sense of his silence. Like he didn’t vanish without warning after folding you into his sheets and leaving you to figure out what the hell it meant.
Your breath leaves you in one uneven exhale.
You blink at the message, your body locked in this strange stillness. Your thumb hovers, frozen. Part of you is tempted to stare at it until it disappears. Ignore it. Let him feel what it’s like to be the one left hanging. But your hands betray you again — just like they always do with him.
You: Radio silence for a week and all I get is a fucking hi? Wtf Jungkook
It’s not even what you really want to say, but it’s the closest thing you can manage that doesn’t sound like I missed you so much it made me sick or please don’t do this again.
Three dots appear.
Your heart squeezes like it’s caught in someone’s fist. And then the dots vanish.
Then come back.
Then vanish again.
You mutter, “Fucking say something,” to no one. It comes out too small, too desperate. You shut your eyes tight for a second like you can wring the feeling out of yourself by force.
A minute or so passes before his reply finally sends.
Kook 🍜: sorry. can i talk to you today?
You reread it so many times the text starts to lose meaning. Can I talk to you today?
You feel sick.
There’s no way you don’t know what this is. The phrasing. The tone. He wants to talk? What the fuck else could that mean, if not that he’s about to cut things off? That he’s going to hand you some polite little speech about how you’re great, but this can’t happen again. That he wants to stay friends and he doesn’t want to confuse things any more than he already has.
Or worse — he thinks you guys are better off cutting contact all together.
You bite down hard on your thumb, suddenly on the verge of tears and furious at yourself for it. You should’ve never let it get here. You should’ve drawn the line before the second time. Before the car. Before the party.
You should’ve been more careful with your heart.
But you’re here now. So far past the line you can’t even see it anymore.
You open your keyboard, then close it again. You want to ask what he wants to talk about. You want to demand answers over text so you don’t have to see his face when he says the words. But you know you won’t get anything that way.
You: Where?
Kook 🍜: i can come to yours
You sit there for a second, just breathing. You feel like you’re bracing for a crash that’s already midair.
You: What time?
Kook 🍜: i can be there in an hour?
You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy staring at your reflection in the dark screen, wondering why your face looks so calm when your body feels like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.
You: Okay
You put the phone down carefully, like it might go off again, or explode, and turn your gaze to the ceiling. Every minute after this is going to stretch like it’s mocking you.
You don’t know if you’re getting closure or clarity. You don’t even know which one would hurt more.
But you know you won't cancel.
Because if this is going to end — if he’s going to say it — it has to be to your face. You need to see it.
You need to know for sure.
Jungkook is fucked.
Like, actually, cosmically, irreversibly fucked.
He stares at the elevator doors like they’re the gates to hell, and his own reflection in the brushed metal does him no favours. He looks tense. Jaw tight, shoulders hunched up high like he’s trying to fold himself into a more manageable version. Someone chill. Someone who isn’t about to shit himself over the thought of seeing you.
He rolls his shoulders back, shakes out his hands. Useless. He’s already sweating through his hoodie.
Every nerve in his body feels like it’s tuned an octave too high. Like if someone so much as breathes in his direction right now, he’ll either snap or confess something humiliating.
He wipes his palms on his jeans again. That’s the fourth time since the lobby.
The worst part is, he knows how he got here. He knows exactly when it happened, too — the moment the line moved.
It was your laugh. The tired kind, all cracked at the edges after that hellish Friday you had. You were curled up in his passenger seat, half out of it, feet tucked under you, and you’d looked over at him with that soft, worn-down smile.
And it just… hit him.
The weight of it. Of you.
He wanted to reach over and touch your face. Not to tease. Not to start something. Just to feel your skin under his fingers like it was allowed now.
And the second that thought formed — clear and blinding and way too tender — it was over. Game fucking over.
Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.
You’re his best friend. Have been for years. He knows how you take your coffee, how you organise your playlists by mood, how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you're anxious. You’re not just some girl he hooked up with at a party. You’re you.
And now, he’s standing in an elevator on the way to your apartment, trying not to think about how badly he messed it all up.
He hadn’t meant to ghost you. Not really. It was just — after that night, after the way you looked at him, all warm and trusting — he panicked. Full-body, brain-scrambling, total system failure. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like he was seconds from saying something stupid like "Don’t sleep with anyone else, please," or "I think I’m in love with you."
So instead, he shut down. Did the one thing he always swore he wouldn’t do with you — he pulled away. Got weird. Avoided it. Avoided you.
And now you’re pissed.
Rightfully so.
He deserved that text you sent. Probably worse. You could’ve ignored him completely and he wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. You texted back and he’s clinging onto that like a lifeline. Because it means there’s still time. Still a chance to fix it — if he doesn’t blow it again.
He presses the heel of his hand to his chest like that might steady the erratic rhythm of his heart.
What the fuck is he even going to say?
Sorry for being an emotionally constipated idiot?
Sorry I ghosted you because I realised I’m in love with you and it short-circuited my whole fucking personality?
Sorry I thought I could fuck you and still keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than anyone else?
The elevator dings.
Jungkook flinches like it slapped him, then scrubs a hand through his hair, lets out a tight breath, and steps through the doors before he can change his mind.
He’s here.
Fuck. He’s actually here.
Jungkook looks like he didn’t sleep last night. Hair messy, clothes a little wrinkled, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before they dart away again. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket like he’s afraid of what they’ll do if left unsupervised.
You tell yourself not to feel relieved. Not to let it show. He didn’t cancel. He showed up. That shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It really, really shouldn’t.
But still — there’s something in your chest that unclenches when you see him standing there, real and present. Even if he does look like he’s about to apologise for burning down your house or something.
“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.
You step back from the door to let him in. Dry. Wordless. The move is automatic, but your body feels stiff with it, like your own muscles are annoyed on your behalf.
He hesitates before stepping inside, like he thinks the floor might swallow him up. You don't offer a smile. Don't even look at him once the door’s closed behind him.
You cross your arms and lean back against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching him with a blank expression that’s only half-real. The other half is tightly coiled under your skin — anger, sure, but under that, all the feelings you’ve been pretending not to have.
He does a slow, uncertain glance around your apartment like something might’ve changed since the last time he was here. But it hasn’t. It’s still your place. Same plants, same overhead light humming softly, same faint scent of laundry detergent that clings to the air.
He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his body.
You’ve never seen him like this before. Not around you. Jungkook’s always been comfortable here. The kind of comfortable that leaves shoes by the door without asking. The kind that opens your fridge like he owns a shelf. But right now, he looks like a stranger in someone else’s house.
You let the silence stretch out. You’re waiting for him to just speak, but he doesn’t
He doesn’t even try.
Eventually, your voice cuts through the air, a little too sharp. “Jungkook, you said you wanted to talk.”
His head snaps up like he forgot that was part of the deal. Like the fact that he came here at all already cost him everything he had in reserve.
“Yeah,” he says. His throat moves when he swallows. “I do.”
You raise your eyebrows, waiting.
He opens his mouth like he’s about to start, then closes it again. Shifts his stance. Rubs the back of his neck with one hand. You catch the way his eyes flick to the floor, then back to you, then away again.
You narrow your eyes. “Well?”
He breathes out a weak, almost bitter laugh and runs both hands down his thighs, like he’s physically trying to ground himself. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.
You frown, arms still crossed tight across your chest. “What? Talk?”
You hate being like this towards him — you feel like a bitch. But it’s the only way that you can stop yourself from just spilling all of your thoughts and feelings to him.
“No, I—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “No. I mean… say the right thing. Say any of it without sounding like an idiot.”
You blink, unimpressed. “So you came here without knowing what you were gonna say.”
He looks at you then. Fully. And for the first time since he walked in, you see the real wreckage behind his eyes. There’s nothing cool or casual about it. He’s unravelling in slow motion. Everything about him is quiet desperation wrapped in someone trying really hard not to fall apart.
“I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted,” he says finally. “And then I figured it out, and that somehow made it worse.”
You stay silent.
He shifts closer, not by much — just a few inches. “I fucked up,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. I know I disappeared. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I was just—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “I got scared.”
You scoff under your breath and look away.
“I’m serious,” he says, softer now. “It freaked me out. How fast it happened. How much it changed.”
You look back at him, jaw set. “What changed?”
He swallows again. Stiff. His voice cracks a little when he speaks next.
“You,” he says again. “How I feel about you. That changed.”
Your chest tightens.
You don’t react, not visibly. You keep your face still, unreadable, even though your brain is suddenly scrambling. You’ve been yanked in too many directions this past week. You’re not going to lean into hope just because he finally decided to speak.
So you say nothing. You just hold his gaze and wait.
Jungkook takes a breath, his shoulders rising with it, then falling in a slow, deliberate exhale. The nervousness is still there — but it’s settled into something quieter now.
“I kept trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything,” he says. “That it was just— whatever. Two friends, getting carried away. We were drunk the first time, right? It was easy to lie to myself about that. Easy to say it didn’t have to go anywhere.”
His voice is calm, but there's tension underneath it.
“But the second time?” He pauses, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, eyes still locked on yours. “That wasn’t drunk. That wasn’t casual. That was me driving us across town just to make you feel better, because I can’t stand it when you’re not okay.”
You flinch — barely — but he sees it. You know he does.
“And then it was me kissing you like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. You think I didn’t notice how different that felt? I’ve never kissed you like that before. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”
The weight of his words hangs in the air between you.
You’re still standing by the counter, arms crossed, but now your grip has loosened. You hate how much this is getting to you, how badly you want to give in, how your chest aches just hearing him say the things you’d only let yourself think when the lights were off and your phone screen was dark.
Jungkook takes another step toward you.
“When I brought you back to mine that night… when you came out of the shower, and I saw you just standing there in my space, looking at me like I was safe…” His voice catches, but not in a way that makes him crumble — just enough to show the truth of it. “I freaked the fuck out.”
You blink at him, finally speaking. “Yeah. I noticed.”
He huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh, but not quite. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the moment. I just— everything in me wanted to pull you close, and that’s when I realised I couldn’t keep doing this the way we were doing it. Not without losing my shit every time you left.”
Your throat feels tight, but you still ask, “So you decided to ghost me instead?”
That lands. His jaw flexes, and he nods once. “Yeah. I did. I thought if I gave it space, I could go back to being normal. Go back to just being your friend. But I couldn’t. I can’t.
“I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. Not because of the sex, not because it was good— which it was, but that’s not the point. It’s you. It’s always been you. I didn’t realise how much until I almost lost it completely.”
You swallow hard. Your arms are uncrossed now. Not folded in, not defensive — just hanging at your sides like you’re too stunned to remember what to do with them.
Jungkook steps in closer. Not touching you yet. But near enough that you can smell him — faint cologne, his laundry detergent, the scent you associate with your car windows fogging up.
“I missed you,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “Every day. And it scared the shit out of me, how badly I wanted to talk to you. Touch you. Just be around you. I wasn’t ready to admit it last week, and I was a coward for that. But I’m not running anymore.”
Silence again.
Except it doesn’t feel like the ones you’ve been drowning in for a week.
“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” he says, lower now, like the words might break if he’s too loud. “And I’m not assuming anything. But if you still want me around— really want me— just say the word. I’ll figure out the rest.”
You inhale slowly, try to even out your breathing, but your chest still feels like it’s barely holding together. Your heart’s doing that thing where it thuds too hard without speeding up.
You hate that you believe him. That you always would’ve. That no matter how angry you were, no matter how cold you tried to be when he walked in — you still wanted him to explain, to prove it wasn’t what your worst thoughts told you it was.
And now he has.
He’s standing in front of you with open hands, with the words you oh so desperately wanted to hear. And for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with that.
“I hate you,” you say quietly.
It’s not true. Not even close. But it’s the first thing that leaves your mouth.
Jungkook huffs out a dry laugh, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I figured.”
You shake your head once. “No. I mean it. I fucking hate you for this. For—” You break off, because your voice is shaking now. “For making me feel like I was crazy. For not even saying goodnight after… after everything.”
His face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“You could’ve just told me,” you go on. “You could’ve said it was too much. That it got weird. That you needed time. Anything. But you disappeared. And I had to sit here wondering if I made it all up."
You pause, pressing your lips together.
“And I— I missed you too, you know,” you add, quieter this time.
His mouth opens like he might speak, but no sound comes out at first. Instead, he closes the space between you by half, slow and steady, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.
“God, you’re such an asshole,” you whisper, but your tone isn't mean. Not even close.
He laughs, soft and low. “Yeah. I know.
“You promise me you’re sure? Cause Jungkook, I will fucking cut off your dick if you pull this shit again.”
He smiles but doesn’t hesitate. “I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
You stare at him.
Long enough that the air between you stretches taut, thin as thread.
His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but still doesn’t know if he’s allowed. His jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling in uneven swells. You can tell he’s waiting — for a sign, for a go-ahead, for you.
And even though part of you still wants to be mad, still wants to make him sweat just a little longer, the rest of you aches. For his mouth. For his hands. For the solid, grounding weight of him.
So you move.
You step into the last inch of space between you and grab the front of his hoodie. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.
You kiss him.
At first, it’s quiet. Just lips pressed to lips gently. There’s a pause between each pass of your mouth over his, like you’re both trying to remember how this started. How you even got here.
But then he sighs against you and it unravels something.
His hands lift, hesitating for only half a second before they settle on your waist, fingers curling tight. You press closer, and his lips part beneath yours. The angle shifts. Your nose bumps his cheek.
The sweetness melts fast.
He makes a sound low in his throat and drags you in like the distance is unbearable. Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of his neck, and the way he reacts — the little shiver he tries to swallow — sends heat straight down your spine.
You kiss him harder.
His body crowds yours until your back meets the wall. His chest presses to yours, and you can feel the way his heart races. How your own pulse kicks up to match it.
The kiss deepens, turns messy at the edges. His teeth catch your bottom lip and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull back. You tilt your chin, chasing more, and the next time he kisses you, it’s hungrier. One of his hands slips to the small of your back, palm dragging slow and warm beneath your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes your whole body twitch.
You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his hands tightening. His other arm slips around your waist completely, pulling you flush against him, and suddenly you’re not thinking anymore.
The tension that’s been bottling up between you two — the silence, the week of wondering, the ache of missing him so much it hurt — it all floods to the surface.
You fist your hands in his hoodie, yanking him impossibly closer. Your hips shift forward, just enough to brush him, and the sound he makes is sharp and involuntary, caught between a breath and a groan.
“Fuck,” he mutters, barely pulling back. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “You’re driving me insane.”
You huff, lips brushing his. “That’s fair.”
He doesn’t stay at your mouth for long. His lips trail down — your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and uneven, and when he finds your neck, your whole body reacts. Your hands clutch at him, your back arches off the wall, and the soft sound that escapes your throat isn’t one you mean to make.
He feels it. Hears it. Answers it with a low, reverent sound that seems to vibrate straight through you.
His tongue traces the spot beneath your ear and your eyes flutter shut.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching sharp in your throat. You pull back for a second before lowering your mouth to his neck, right where the collar of his hoodie dips. He lets out a small sound, hands flexing on your waist, when your lips press there.
You start slow. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, the way his chest rises against yours, unsteady and warm. Then you part your lips and suck gently at the spot just below his jaw. His whole body stutters, hips jerking against yours before he can stop it.
Your fingers trail down his chest, tugging his hoodie collar aside for better access. His head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted.
You do it again, this time with enough pressure to leave a mark, and the sound of your mouth working against his skin is lewd.
He groans. It’s low and rough and barely held back, and the sound shoots straight between your legs. You feel him hardening now, undeniable through the fabric where he’s pressed against you.
“All mine?” you whisper, your lips brushing over the new mark you’ve left.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “All yours.”
His voice is breathless. Wrecked. And so damn certain it knocks something loose in your chest.
You pull back just enough to look at him — really look. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, a flush climbing high on his cheeks. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he would if you let him.
“I missed that mouth,” he mutters, hands gliding under your shirt again, palms broad and warm. “Missed everything.”
You kiss his throat in reply and drag your teeth across it until he swears under his breath.
His hips grind against you again, harder this time. You both feel it — the friction, the heat building between your bodies.
His arms shift beneath you and he lifts you clean off the ground in one smooth motion, hands strong under your thighs. A startled sound escapes your throat as your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, gripping him tight.
“Fuck,” he mutters again, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I want you so bad it’s actually stupid.”
You smile, drunk on the feel of him.
“Bedroom?” you murmur, tracing your lips over the new mark blooming against his skin.
He hums lowly, and shifts his grip on your thighs.
He carries you through the hallway and your lips never leave his skin for more than a second.
When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps inside and drops you onto the mattress in one fluid movement.
You barely get your bearings before he’s crawling over you, slotting his body between your legs, His mouth finds yours again, and you moan into it before you can stop yourself when his knee presses between your legs.
Your hips twitch, grinding down against the pressure, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your chest as his mouth moves with yours. His hand slips under your shirt again, this time bolder, fingers spanning across your ribs and inching higher until his knuckles brush the curve of your breast.
You gasp softly, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Off.”
You sit up just enough to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one smooth pull, your hair mussed from the friction. He watches the fabric fall to the floor, then looks at you.
“You’re so fucking pretty," he breathes.
You roll your eyes automatically, even though your face is already burning. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” he says, and his voice drops low. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
His lips part and he kisses along your sternum — slow, wet presses of his mouth that trail up and then out, over the swell of one breast, then the other.
You inhale sharply when his mouth grazes the sensitive skin beside your nipple, and his eyes flick up at the sound, pupils blown. He kisses lower, then higher again, murmuring against your skin, “Can’t believe I went a week without this.”
The vibration of his voice right against your skin makes you arch, and he meets you halfway, grinding down slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what you’re chasing and wants to stretch it out just to watch you squirm.
Your hands curl into his shoulders, nails biting down just enough to make him grunt softly into your skin. He rolls his hips again, slow and heavy, and the pressure against your core has your breath catching in your throat.
“Koo,” you whine out.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips pink and wet, hair falling into his eyes. He grins, crooked and hot and deeply pleased with himself.
“Yeah, baby?” he asks, and his voice is pure sin.
You glare, but your thighs shift open under him anyway.
“Please.”
He hums, satisfied, and starts working his way lower. Every kiss is wet and unhurried. Down your chest, across your stomach. His hands follow, smoothing over your ribs, down to your hips, dragging the waistband of your pants just slightly with them. His thumbs hook in the fabric, pausing right above your pelvis.
He looks up at you, smug and dark-eyed.
“Gonna let me take these off?”
He's so annoying you're gonna kill him. “Do I look like I’m stopping you?”
“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your navel, “but I like hearing you say it.”
You huff, fingers threading into his hair again. “Take them off, Kook.”
He eases them down slowly — too slowly — dragging the fabric down your legs while his mouth follows in a path of heat and pressure. He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, every patch of skin he uncovers like it’s something sacred. When your panties go next, he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat — more reverent than smug this time.
You’re already wet, already aching, and from the way his eyes flicker as he takes you in, he fucking knows it.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked. You missed me that much?”
You exhale hard, cheeks hot. “Shut up and do something about it.”
He grins again, slower this time. “Anything you want.”
His hands grip your thighs and spread them further apart, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.
The first swipe of his tongue is long, and delibirate. You jerk at the contact, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and does it again.
Every movement of his tongue is practiced and precise. He starts slow, almost gentle, licking through your folds with a kind of focus that makes your head spin. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he pushes them apart with ease, never breaking rhythm.
Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping tight. His tongue circles your clit once, then again, and the third time he sucks it between his lips. You try to stifle a moan, but it slips from your lips anyway.
He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your skin.
“Keep making those sounds, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Wanna hear every fucking thing I do to you.”
He movements turn faster, his mouth messy and hot and relentless. You’re already close, the build-up sharp and climbing, and he can feel it. One of his hands slips lower, spreading you open further with his thumb, and his tongue drags in tighter circles.
You’re writhing, panting, toes curling into the sheets. Your fingers tug at his hair, your spine arching off the bed.
“Fuck— Kook—” you gasp, head thrown back.
He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through your pussy. He doubles down, mouth moving faster, and when your hips start to stutter, erratic and desperate, he presses his hand over your stomach, grounding you.
“You’re gonna come for me?” he murmurs against you, mouth slick with you. “Gonna let me taste it?”
You nod frantically, unable to speak, your whole body wound tight and ready to snap.
He presses his mouth against you again, lips sucking against your clit, and the feeling has you squirming with pleasure.
“Kook—” your voice breaks open as you come hard against his mouth.
He moans, but his movements don't stop.
Your body arches helplessly, heels digging into the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as you ride out the wave. You’re gasping, blinking hard, your heart trying to punch through your ribs.
Only when your legs start to tremble uncontrollably does he finally pull back.
His lips are slick and swollen, jaw damp, hair messy from where you’ve been gripping it. And he looks wrecked — eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, like just being between your thighs has undone something in him.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his lips slowly up your inner thigh, leaving lazy kisses in his wake.
You’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling like your soul just left your body, when he plants a final kiss on the inside of your knee and murmurs, “Yeah. I’m never ghosting you again.”
You let out a breathless laugh, too blissed out to be mad. “You better not.”
“After that?” he says, crawling back up your body, slow and unhurried. “I’d be clinically insane.”
He settles over you again, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then another between your breasts, then finally your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, and when he groans against your lips, it sends a fresh jolt of heat straight through you.
His body is flush against yours, his clothed cock thick and heavy where it presses against your thigh. You let your hands trail down his chest slowly to tug at the denim loops of his jeans.
"Want these off," you mumble against his lips.
He smiles and presses one last kiss to your mouth before he leans back onto his knees. His hands go to his belt, and you watch the way his fingers fumble for just a second.
He gets the buckle undone, then the zipper, the sound louder than it should be in your quiet bedroom. You watch as he shucks them down, boxers and all, and your breath catches slightly at the sight of him — flushed and hard and achingly ready.
“Better?” he asks, voice low.
You nod, breath shallow, and he’s already crawling back over you. The heat of him sinks into your skin as his body settles between your thighs, bare now.
Your legs part without hesitation.
His weight, the press of his chest to yours, the familiar scent of him wrapped in something raw and new — it all hits at once, and your whole body shivers.
He’s warm everywhere. The kind of warmth that soaks into your bones and makes you ache for more.
His hands slide along your arms until they find yours where they’re resting above your head. He threads his fingers through yours and presses them gently into the pillow, pinning you there. His eyes search yours, and you feel the first brush of him between your legs, just the tip, teasing the edge of you.
He doesn’t move yet. Just rests there, eyes locked on yours.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, like he’s hanging on by a thread.
You don’t answer — not with words. You just tilt your hips up, welcoming him in with nothing but a look.
He pushes in slow — painfully slow — each inch dragging fire across your nerves as your body stretches to take him. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your fingers clenching around his. When he’s fully buried inside you, he stills completely.
“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… unreal.”
You can’t speak — your body’s too full, too wrecked already — so you kiss him instead. Slow and sweet and a little desperate. Your hips rock up, seeking more.
He groans into your mouth, finally starting to move, and every thrust is so fucking deep. It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s him savouring you, like he wants to remember how this feels with every part of himself.
His hands stay tight around yours, anchoring you both to the bed, to each other.
The rhythm builds, a slow burn that spreads everywhere, and between kisses you catch the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing something he’s afraid to lose. Like there’s something he wants to say but can’t yet.
“You were supposed to beg,” you manage to murmur against his mouth, breathless. “Grovel a little.”
That crooked smile curls against your lips. “My bad, baby,” he murmurs. “You can make me beg next time.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”
He shifts his hips, thrusting deeper, and your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp.
“You promise?”
The challenge in his voice is smug, but his eyes are dark and glassy, his control hanging by a thread. You whimper in response, thighs tightening around his waist, and he dips his head to your throat, dragging his lips along your pulse like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.
He starts to move with more purpose now, making you feel every second of it. His cock grinds into that spot that makes your vision blur, and your whole body tenses, fingers squeezing his like a lifeline.
The moan you let out is shameless, high and wrecked, when he tilts his hips just right — again and again, like he’s carving his name into your body from the inside.
“Right there?” he murmurs, already knowing. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you — every reaction, every sound. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You always get like this for me?”
“Koo—” His name slips out broken, a warning and a plea wrapped in one.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. His thrusts get rougher now, faster, the rhythm losing polish but gaining intensity. “Let me have you, baby. Come again for me.”
The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your whole body winding tight. His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond, tongue tangling with yours, greedy and open and honest in all the ways his words still aren’t.
When he pulls back, he’s panting, “You feel like heaven, fuck.”
You can’t even process it — not now, not when his rhythm stutters and his hips slam harder, each thrust jolting a cry from your throat. Your legs are trembling, your grip bruising where it clings to him, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighening.
“That’s it,” he groans, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”
You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth catching on his skin as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, and you cry out his name. His hand squeezes yours back, holding you through it.
Your walls grip him tight, and he groans loud against your skin, hips faltering. “Fuck— shit—”
He thrusts once more before spilling into you with a broken sound, voice rasping your name like a prayer.
His whole body shudders as he comes, arms locked tight around you like he needs you to stay exactly where you are — here, under him, around him, real. His forehead drops to your shoulder, damp curls brushing your skin as he exhales, long and shaky.
Neither of you move right away. The air between you is thick with heat and breath and a comforting silence.
Eventually though, he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, softer.
His hand slides along your waist, fingertips brushing lazy patterns into your skin. You hum under your breath — not a word, just a sound — and he responds by kissing your shoulder again.
Your legs are still tangled together. His body still half-draped over yours. There’s a mess between your thighs and sweat clinging to your skin, and you should probably say something, anything — but there’s something sweet about the silence now. It’s soft. Unspoken. Peaceful, in a weirdly intimate way.
He shifts again, easing out of you with a quiet groan, and you wince a little at the loss.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, running a hand gently over your thigh like an apology.
“It’s fine,” you breathe, eyes closed, chest still rising and falling too fast.
He doesn’t go far. Just rolls to the side, still close enough that his leg stays pressed against yours, and reaches for the blanket to pull it up over you both. He tugs you into his chest like second nature, burying his nose in your hair, his hand stroking absently up and down your arm.
“You good?” he asks softly, lips brushing your temple.
“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “You?”
He pauses. Then he nods against your skin. “Yeah. More than.”
You lay there like that for a while, heartbeats evening out. He’s still drawing shapes on your skin — fingertips slow, mindless — and you smile to yourself, warmth blooming low in your stomach.
“So,” you murmur eventually, voice still hoarse. “What now? We high-five and call it a night?”
He huffs a laugh into your hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a high-five.”
You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Cocky.”
“Confident,” he corrects, grinning. “But really—” He shifts a little so he can see your face, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right.”
You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Do what right?”
He raises an eyebrow, like it should be obvious. “Us.”
There’s a pause. You look at him, and he looks at you, and it’s terrifying and sweet all at once.
“I really like you,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I just got laid.” He cracks a small smile. “Though, to be fair, that was mind-blowing.”
You snort. “So humble.”
“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll take you out. I’ll plan dumb dates. I’ll be obnoxiously charming and show up with flowers. I’ll be— like— a gentleman, or whatever.”
You give him a look. “You should’ve done all that before you fucked me.”
His grin spreads. “Yeah, well. Guess I got the order wrong. You gonna hold that against me?”
“Maybe,” you say, lips twitching.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, fingers brushing your cheek. “You’ll see. I’ll be so romantic it’ll make you want to punch me.”
“I already want to punch you.”
“And yet,” he says smugly, pulling you closer, “you’re still in my bed.”
“This is my bed, dumbass.”
He pauses. “Okay, fair. But I am naked in it. With you.”
You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face won’t go away. His arm tightens around your waist, and you let yourself relax into it — into him. For once, it doesn’t feel like something to second-guess.
He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.
You tuck your face into his neck and sigh. “You better bring the good flowers. Like the ones that don’t die in two days.”
“Oh, so now you’re picky?”
“You said dates and flowers. I’m holding you to it.”
“Noted,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I’m gonna be so disgustingly good to you.”
summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.
but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.
pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader
genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, a LOT of angst, fluff, (eventual) explicit sexual content ( mdni ! ), swearing, alcohol consumption, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs, other chapter specific tags
Genre: idol!au, strangers to lovers, romance, one-sided love
Summary: BTS books out a quiet restaurant in Itaewon for a private dinner, owned by a longtime friend. But their peaceful night off is hilariously interrupted when a heartbroken y/n, best friend to the owner’s wife, takes over the karaoke corner with breakup anthems and zero shame. One performance turns into a full emotional concert and Jungkook is captivated. He asks for your number just curious at first. But what starts as a simple text turns into something deeper. It begins with chaotic karaoke but it just might end with a relationship.
Word count: 4876 | chapter 5 out of im not sure yet :))
Warnings: alcohol use, jealousy so much jealousy, fluff, angst.
a/n: all i want to say is god damn jungkook calm down a lil bit will you?!
also id recommend listening to the cut that always bleed on loop for this one. Enjoy!!
taglist: @dna-black-and-blue @ineed-myspace @almatiarau @felxvrs @sexytholland @mae-murdock
Your phone vibrated against the nightstand, dragging you out of the good dream you had just now.
You squinted your eyes at the screen and groaned as you saw Jungkook’s name across it at 6:30 AM.
“You’re joking,” you said when you answered. “Good morning to you too,” Jungkook’s laugh was bright and annoyingly awake, “I’m outside.”
You sat up too fast, “Outside where?”
“Your building? 7 AM right?”
You dragged a hand down your face, groaning, “I wake up at seven. I leave at eight, and work starts at 8:30, what part of that sounds like ‘show up at six-thirty’?”
There was a pause, then an “Oh,” then he continued it with, “and this is six-thirty.”
You stared at the ceiling, “You’re insane and you’re very early.”
“I can wait down here,” he offered, “I’ll survive.”
“Or,” you muttered, pulling your blanket around your shoulders as you shuffled toward the door, “you could come up before my neighbours think I hired a biker for my morning wake up calls.”
“You’re inviting me in?” he teased.
“I’m preventing scandal,” you corrected, unlocking the door, “Get your ass up here, I need to shower.”
You gave him your apartment number and there he was, your scarf around his throat, hoodie, joggers, and with a smile people make when they show up too early and know it.
“Hi,” Jungkook said. “Come in,” you sighed, stepping aside, “if my neighbour sees you, I’m telling her you’re a courier.” “I’m good at delivering,” he said as he slipped past you.
He took off his shoes, looked around like he just entered a museum. A coat was placed over your chair, a stack of half read books on the coffee table, a scented candle smelling like lavender, and post-its notes on the fridge; pay gas every 2nd week, call your brother back, stop doomscrolling.
“Nice place,” Jungkook said as he sits down on your couch.
“Thanks,” you said.
He looked at you for a second, “Do you want coffee? Or should I just wait and sit here?”
“Kitchen’s there,” you pointed, “mugs on the second shelf. I’m going to shower, don’t rob me.”
He dramatically put a hand to his chest, “I would never.”
“Also,” you added as you walk towards your bedroom, “the window to the balcony is open and if you see a cat, she’s not mine. She likes to climb from their balcony to mine just to visit, so don't try to feed her anything.”
“Duly noted, manager.”
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You shut your bedroom door and leaned against it a second longer than necessary. The apartment was quieter with him in it, somehow.
In the shower your heart was beating like you just sprinted. You scrubbed too fast, then forced yourself to slow down. It’s fake. It’s fine. It’s a bit. You are not the kind of girl to write a boy's name in the fogged mirror.
Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, forcing his legs to move towards the kitchen, but every step makes him more aware that this is in fact, your place.
He opened the cupboard for the mugs, hands embarrassingly sweaty, and a thought crept into his mind that maybe he should’ve just waited downstairs.
He was about to make coffee in your kitchen, and his chest feel like it might burst from how terrifying and intimate that actually was.
Because this wasn’t just any kitchen, again, it’s yours. And standing in the middle of it, Jungkook realised that he wasn’t just nervous, he was falling, fast.
He knows he shouldn’t, he needed to remind himself again and again that this is all just part of your game, your revenge to your friends.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
When you came out of the shower, with face moisturised and a simple sweater and jeans on, you heard the faint sounds of a knife and movements in the kitchen, and the smell of brown butter. You paused, blinked, and move towards the kitchen.
Jungkook was standing in your small kitchen with his sleeves pushed just above his elbows, tattoos peeking as he flipped something in a pan. On the counter you could see shredded cabbage, eggs, and soft bread. He found your sugar, salt, black pepper, and your shameful bottle of ketchup.
“What are you making?” “Toast,” he said without looking up.
He finally glanced over to you, “You look more alive now.” “I fake it well,” you said, stepping closer to him, “You really didn’t have to cook.” “I know,” he said, “I wanted to.”
“You’re really good at this fake boyfriend bit,” you said, sitting on the stool at the counter, “You realise this escalates the narrative.”
He hates when you call it that, when you remind him it was all supposed to be for your revenge, just for the bit.
But he smiled anyway, “Good,” Jungkook said even though he could feel the tight knot in his chest, “Isn’t escalation step two of your master plan?”
He assembled the toast and slid the first sandwich onto a plate, then started another. “Okay,” he said sliding a plate towards you, “Give me your commentary after your first bite.”
You obeyed, the bread was crisp and buttery, the cabbage sweet and savoury from the sugar and pepper, the egg was soft, and the cheese melted in all the right ways. You chewed and closed your eyes like a dramatic YouTube reviewer, then pointed at him with the sandwich.
“I hate you,” you announced.
He froze, “What?”
“For making this taste so heavenly,” you moaned at how good the sandwich is.
The sound you made stopped him for a few seconds. He tried to control his face because your moan has no business in making his stomach flip the way it did.
His shoulders loosened, “Is it that good?” “It’s criminal,” you said around another bite, “You’re never allowed to cook again unless you plan on making my stomach dependent on you.”
“That sounds like a red light violation,” he said, pouring coffee, “Picture?” he asked after a second, nodding to the plates, “for close friends, it’s a good plan, right?”
You wiped your mouth with a napkin, “Right, we escalate,” you dragged the plate towards the window for better lighting, "give me your hand.”
“My hand?” He blinked.
“Tattoo,” you clarified like it wasn’t obvious enough, “If you just post a sandwich, they’ll think I made it, let them do the math.”
He set his hand in the frame, fingers relaxed beside the plate, no faces, no giveaways.
“What’s the caption?” he asked, leaning in after you finished taking the picture.
You wrote: he cooks?? tragic for my independence
“You’re going to get a lot DMs,” he warned.
You posted it to your close friends list, the tiny green circle of chaos, “Posted.”
You didn’t have to wait long for your friends to message you.
best girlies 💅💗
Sooyoung: omg is he staying at yours??
Dahyun: when are you going to tell us that you started dating Jungkook already?!
You bit back a smile and turn your phone face down.
“Ready?” Jungkook asked, washing the pan and laying it on the rack.
You hated how much you liked that he cleaned after he cooked.
Domesticity should not be this hot.
You checked the time. 7:55 AM.
“I need shoes and I have to pack my laptop.”
“I’ll be by the bike,” he said, already moving towards the door. You caught yourself watching him slip his shoes back on and loop your scarf around his neck again.
You had to shake your head to snap yourself back to reality.
Jungkook is hot and attractive, you can admit that much, at least.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
By 8:10, you were standing near his bike, bag across your chest, hair tied, and lip balm on.
“Hold this,” he said, passing you the helmet. You slipped it on your head, fumbling with the chin strap until it twisted in your hands and you let out a frustrated sigh.
“Here,” Jungkook said softly, leaning in, and his fingers brushed yours as he took over to adjust the strap with practiced ease. He made sure to hear to clicking sound before stepping away. Jungkook realised how much he wants to keep helping you with these little things, wanted it to never just be a prank.
“Picture two?” he asked.
You agreed and took a picture of him sitting on his bike, then added the caption: personal chauffeur to work before posting it to your close friends.
“Ready?” he asked. “Yep,” you said as you swing a leg over the seat and settled.
“You can hold on to me tighter,” he said. “I know,” you replied, and closed the gap between you and him. Your cheek touched his back for a second longer than necessary. And for those few seconds, Jungkook forgot about the fact that this is all temporary.
All he could register was your body against his, how you were closer than last night.
The engine started and he pulled away from the street. Your apartment building disappeared behind you and your office building waited, fifteen minutes away, if traffic was kind.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
“Talk to me,” you called at the first red light, “distract me from the fact that I have 20 emails waiting for me.” “What do I say?” he shouted back.
“Tell me something you’re bad at.” “Parallel parking when someone’s watching,” he replied. You laughed, “Relatable.”
“Your turn,” he said as the light turn green. “I can’t swallow pills without pep talking myself,” you confessed. He shook with what you assumed was laughter.
“Another one,” you said, “Tell me something you don’t say on camera.”
He thought about it for a few seconds until finally admitting, “Sometimes I skip the gym and then post an old workout clip so my trainer doesn’t text me five skull emojis.”
You gasped, “Fraud.”
“Selective honesty.”
“Okay, fine,” you allowed it, “I once faked an allergy to coconut because I didn’t want to eat my ex’s terrible cake.” You could slightly hear him laughing out loud again.
You can feel the wind and how cold it was getting to you, so you tucked yourself in closer to him. Jungkook didn’t say anything, but he lifted his left hand from the handlebar to nudge your knuckles like a quiet check in to make sure you're okay. You told yourself it was just part of the bit and nothing more.
On the way, you passed a bakery and a bookstore with Post-its stuck all over the glass. At a red light, Jungkook tilted his chin toward a cute dog inside of a car, and you tapped his stomach twice to let him know you saw it.
“Question,” he called at the next light, “Since we’re escalating, what’s our next necessary moment?”
You inhaled, “I was thinking,” you shouted, “a selfie, let them finally see us.”
He shook his head like he couldn’t believe the level of your chaos, “You’re terrifying.”
“Thank you.”
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You reached your office not long after. Jungkook slowed the bike nearby and cut the engine. You got off his bike and stood next to him. He unbuckled your helmet's strap before you could and you slid the helmet off and handed it to him. “Helmet hair,” he pointed at your hair.
“I’ll survive,” you replied, “thanks for breakfast, by the way.”
“Thanks for not suing me for the early arrival,” he said.
“Text me when you get home,” you said, then corrected, “I mean, when you get to wherever you’re going.”
“Yes, manager y/n,” he answered.
“Don’t call me manager.”
“Too late. It’s stuck now.”
You rolled your eyes then turned around and walk towards your building.
He waited until you reached the door and you knew he was waiting for you because you didn’t hear the sound of his bike’s engine immediately after you left his side.
Around 15 minutes later, your phone vibrated against your desk.
Jungkook: don’t skip lunch.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
You didn’t exactly want to go but the idea of staying home alone with your thoughts was worse.
So when your colleagues insisted you to join them on their night drinks, you gave in. It was one of those after work rituals.
The air in the bar smells like soju and fried chicken. Music from a nearby speaker mixed with the chatter creating a chaos that makes it easier to forget the rough few weeks you have gone through.
You clink your glasses with colleagues, singing songs together, and they dragged you into photos you know would surface in the team group chat with captions like best team everrr 🥂.
You played along, sipping your soju, trying to remember what it feels like to have fun without the weight of your breakup or the fake relationship you have with Jungkook.
It was somewhere between the second and third round of drinks when he appeared. Not Jungkook, just some stranger.
“Didn’t I see you at the entrance earlier?” he asked, voice loud enough to be heard over the music. You blinked, uninterested, “Maybe, depends if you were looking.” He grinned like he liked that answer, “Guess I was.”
Your colleagues teased you telling you to “go on” and “live a little.”
You rolled your eyes but you didn’t push him away either, because you are single and Jungkook isn’t your boyfriend.
Because the fake thing you two are tangled in doesn't mean you owe him loyalty.
So you let the stranger buy you a drink, you let him lean in a little closer than necessary when he showed you something on his phone, and you laughed at one of his jokes, even if it wasn’t that funny.
Later, you weren’t even sure why you opened your Instagram, maybe it was muscle memory, maybe it was the alcohol.
But you posted a messy collage of clinking glasses, blurry shots of your coworkers, and one selfie where the stranger’s face was right next to yours.
You didn’t think much of it.
You were too busy scrolling and laughing at something your colleague shouted across the bar.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Jungkook’s phone vibrated once, then again, lighting up with notifications he usually ignored during workouts.
He sat on the bench, towel draped over his shoulders, and earphones hanging useless around his neck. When he glanced at the notification, your username was on his screen and he didn’t hesitate to swipe. He was just checking how your night is going.
And then he saw it.
Your story.
He noticed a selfie with some guy who is too close to you. He blinked, and his jaw tightened, scrolling back like he might have imagined it. But no, it was there, clear as day, you and some stranger.
He dropped the dumbbells back onto the rack with a heavy sound that startled the guy next to him.
“Shit,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.
He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself you are single, that this whole thing between you two is just a game, a prank to fool your friends, nothing real.
You do not owe him anything.
But his chest is burning. He hates how tight his throat feels, hates the way his stomach knotted when he replays that story in his head. He hates that the thought of you smiling at someone else makes his vision blur for half a second.
It was jealousy, and Jungkook knows it.
He hates how nothing about the way it consumed him felt fake.
He picked up the weights again, lifted once, twice, and then gave up. His motivation was gone and his focus shattered. The mirror in front of him reflecting someone restless with jaw clenched.
Jungkook grabs his phone again, replayed your story, zoomed in like an idiot. He recognised the bar, he knows exactly where is it. And how it's only a 10 minute drive from his gym.
He knows he shouldn’t even think about it.
He knows if he shows up, it might end up with you ending the fake relationship. But before he could stop himself, he was shoving his things into his bag. He changed into his sweater, grabbed his keys, and tugged the sleeves low over his wrists, he put a mask and a cap on as he walked.
By the time he was at the parking lot, his decision was already made. He wasn’t finishing the workout tonight, he wasn’t letting this sit in his chest and overthink it.
He is going to you.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The bar was exactly as he remembered it; crowded and loud.
Jungkook pulled his cap lower, adjusted the mask higher, and pulled down his sleeves until they hide the tattoos on his knuckles.
He looks like any other guy in an oversized sweater and dark jeans. No one looked twice, thankfully. He just wanted to focus on finding you.
His eyes scans the crowd automatically, trained to pick you out even before he admitted to himself that’s what he was doing.
And there you were.
You're at the bar, slouched slightly forward, phone in your hand, scrolling like you were trying to escape into the screen. The stranger was nowhere near you now and your colleagues drifted to the dance floor or outside to smoke, leaving you in your own quiet pocket.
Jungkook felt his chest loosen at the sight of you alone. But the tension was still there as he makes his way closer to you.
He stopped just behind you, close enough that you could hear him even over the music.
“You know,” his voice breathy, “if you keep posting that kind of shit, our friends are never going to believe we’re actually together.”
You turned so fast you nearly dropped your phone, “What? what the fuck?” you said, eyes wide, blinking up at him through the dim lights, “Why are you here?”
“To save our fake relationship,” he said.
You stared at him like Jungkook just lost his mind.
Of all the places you expected Jungkook to show up tonight, the last was here, this crowded bar with your colleagues, and half empty glasses of soju scattered everywhere.
Yet here he was, sleeves tugged over his knuckles and a cap shadowing his eyes.
“You’re insane,” you whispered harshly, “you actually came here? for what?”
He leaned in, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours, voice low so only you could hear him, “I told you, to save our cover.”
“Our cover?” you repeated, “you didn’t have to come here for that, no one cares.”
“Really?” he said, eyes dark as they flicked to your phone still in your hand, "because the guy in your story sure as hell looked like he cares.”
You feel heat across your cheeks, “That’s none of your business and it's not like I was kissing him or anything. It was just a selfie.”
His laugh was dry, “you posted it, you made it everyone’s business.”
You snapped your phone shut and shoved it into your bag, glaring at him, “Why do you even care? This whole thing is fake, remember?”
The word fake seems to hit him like a punch. Jungkook's jaw tightened, “Yeah,” he said finally, “fake.”
You crossed your arms, refusing to look away, “So why are you acting like it’s not?” “Guess I’m just committed to the bit."
You scoffed, “Bullshit.”
You saw it then, the jealousy. The way his chest rise a little too fast for someone who claimed he is just committed to the bit.
“You’re jealous,” you said before you could stop yourself. Jungkook froze, denying your statement, “I’m not.” but his voice betrayed him.
You studied him, watching the way his eyes narrowed like he hates being read this easily. “You are,” you pressed, “You’re jealous over something fake. Remember Jungkook, no feelings or this fake relationship is over.”
He leaned in then, so close you could feel his breath over the mask against your ear, “Don’t push it, y/n.”
A shiver shot throughout your body, though you can't tell whether it was because of his tone or how close he was to you.
Before you could say anything else, his eyes scanned the bar like he couldn’t stand to look at you anymore, “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
“I can get myself home,” you shot back.
His eyes snapped back to you, “Not tonight.”
You opened your mouth to argue but the look in his eyes stopped you. So you grabbed your bag, muttered a stiff, “Fine,” and followed him out.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
The night air was cool, sharp against your heated skin as you stepped outside. The noise of the bar fades behind you, replaced by the sound of passing cars.
Jungkook’s car was parked down the street, sleek and dark, an obvious contrast to the chaos of the bar. He walked ahead, shoulders tense, hands shoved deep into his pockets. You trailed after him, arms crossed tight.
When you reached the car, he opened the passenger door without a word. You hesitated, "You don’t have to.” “Get in,” he said, his voice low, not accepting any argument.
You got into his car, more out of stubbornness to prove you weren’t intimidated than anything else and the door shut behind you with a quiet thud.
The drive started in silence. Jungkook’s hands gripped the wheel tight as he tries to calm down.
He might have just made the greatest mistake by coming to you. He should have just sent a funny message to you after seeing the story. Or made sure you were doing okay through text.
Being jealous like this, the way he just picked you up from a bar without you even telling him where you are is not going to help him.
Jungkook just risked losing you and the fake relationship that he thought would bring you closer.
You tried not to look at him and tried not to notice the sharp line of his jaw and the way his eyes stayed fixed on the road like it was the only thing calming him down.
You really didn't get it. The jealousy was totally uncalled for. It was a normal selfie. He is not even your boyfriend and he crossed the line and boundary you both agreed to. The silence was so loud you couldn’t stand it anymore.
“You didn’t have to come,” you said finally.
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”
His grip on the wheel tightened for a long moment, he didn’t answer, “Because watching you with him made me want to put my fist through something.”
He glanced at you briefly, “Happy now? There’s your truth, you were right. I am jealous, does that make you feel better?”
You turned towards him, words slipping out sharper than you intended, “I wasn’t trying to make you admit it. I just,” you huffed, “You’re so confusing.”
He lets out a humorless laugh, “You think you’re not?”
That one stings, but you refused to let him see it, “You’re the one showing up at the bar I didn't even tell you I was in, dragging me into your car, and talking about punching walls because of a guy I barely know.”
“Exactly,” he snapped, “you barely know him and still.”
“And still what?” you pressed him.
You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms,
“God, Jungkook. If this is your version of fake boyfriend, remind me to ask for a refund in the morning.”
He shot you a look, a mix of disbelief and frustration, “Funny.”
“I’m serious,” you said, “most fake boyfriends would just ignore it. Maybe text something stupid like don’t get too wild without me. You? You stormed in like some jealous husband from a drama.”
His knuckles whitened on the wheel, “Maybe I’m not most fake boyfriends.”
The car went quiet again.
You stared out the window, your heart pounding through your chest. You can feel his eyes flick towards you, like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t.
Finally, you whispered, “You know I kissed him back, right?”
The car jerked slightly as Jungkook’s hands twitched on the wheel, “Don’t.”
“I did,” you said, forcing your lie to sound real, testing him.
“y/n.” The warning in his tone made you shiver.
You bite your lip, satisfaction curling in your stomach despite the tension radiating off him, “See? You don’t get to act like it’s fake anymore. Not when you’re like this.”
He didn’t answer. He just kept on driving, faster now, but eyes still locked on the road.
But you caught it, his jaw tightening, the way his breath sounds heavier, and his knuckles whitening on the wheel.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you were almost relieved. You unbuckled your seatbelt, hand reaching for the door, but his voice stopped you.
“y/n.”
You looked back.
“This was supposed to be fake,” he said quietly, “but nothing about how I feel is fake.”
You inhaled as the air between you thickened, heavy with the lines you aren't supposed to cross. You should’ve laughed it off, should’ve reminded him of the rules. You should’ve walked away.
But instead, you whispered, “Then what is it?”
“It’s me, wanting to kiss you so bad it’s driving me insane.”
Before you could answer, before you could think of what to say, he leaned across, hand lifting to cup your jaw, and his mouth was on yours.
And you don't understand why, but you kissed him back.
The kiss was frustrated at first like he was angry at himself for giving in. His lips pressed hard against yours and his hand tightened against your cheek like he couldn’t bear to let you go.
Your hands fisted the front of his sweater, pulling him even closer. Your lips moved against his just as hungry and reckless.
You still don't understand why you're kissing him back.
Maybe it's the alcohol taking over or maybe it's the loneliness.
The kiss softened into something deeper, you melted into the kiss, into him, kissing him back softer now as your grip on his sweater loosening.
By the time he pulled back, you were both breathing hard and eyes locked. He stared at you for a few seconds then whispered, “Goodnight, y/n.”
And before you could say anything, he turned away, his hands gripping the wheel again.
You stepped out of the car, you can feel the cool night air against your flushed skin.
By the time you reached the entrance of your apartment, you turned back.
His car was still there and then, just as you opened your mouth to call out to him, the car pulled away into the night.
Leaving you standing there, heart pounding, and no answers.
♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡
Jungkook grips the wheel tighter the second you stepped out of the car.
His lips still tastes like yours, but beneath it all was the sharp sting of regret.
He knew he just broke a boundary that kept your little game safe.
He cursed under his breath, forehead pressed briefly to the wheel.
God, Jungkook wanted more.
But all he can think about now is that he might’ve ruined the only chance he has of being close to you. The chance that made him agree to the fake relationship in the first place.
And as he drove off into the night, Jungkook couldn’t tell if crossing that line will bring you closer to him.
Or if it just guaranteed he would lose any chance he had with you.
i have this disease called i will open your message and get distracted and forget to reply and then the notification will be gone so i will not have replied for ages and you will think i am ignoring you but. i am not. it’s incurable
✧ summary moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate.
✧ warnings & tags roommates AU, hate to love, fluff, angst, humor, reader hooks up w. namjoon (it's very brief!), mutual pining, hurt/comfort, smut, guk is a tease, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, cowgirl, happy ending!
✧ word count 14.7k
✧ author's note this fic is a re-upload! if you've seen it before, this is why:)
For the first time since a week ago, you’re finally able to breathe for once.
The sigh you let out is comforting and freeing. The awful ruckus of moving has caused you to roam on the streets with a lack of sleep, eye bags that can be caught from miles away and a groggy voice not daring to disappear from your vocals.
A mess, really.
You know it, your ex-roommate Ash knows it too and even though she and her partner are at fault here, it was bound to happen.
You see, Ash had met Lucca through a mutual friend, the mutual friend being you and you were surprised at how well they complimented each other.
The night they met was filled with nervous glances and flushed red cheeks due to the excitement. They both deserved each other. So, when they finally announced their relationship with you, you were more than thrilled.
Although, after a year of them dating they had come to the conclusion of moving in together, which was a big step for their relationship and a step back for you, due to you ending back to square one and having to find an apartment yourself.
The image of Ash’s expression when she kindly asked you to move within the next month was imprinted in your mind. She didn’t want to kick you out this way, but it was an important and big step into her relationship with Lucca, and the decision needed to be made regardless. You didn’t really have a say in this.
Firstly, the apartment was Ash’s and in the end, it is her decision on whom she wants to share it with.
It took you a week.
A whole week to find the perfect place for you.
The pictures sold the place nicely, the living room looking spacious and decorated firmly with stable furniture, and being desperate to find anything, you called the owner. The conversation went great. He was very quick on letting you get the apartment, sending you a confirmation email the day after you had agreed on the deposit.
You were doing it, and it felt great.
Although, your lack of sleep had been caused by the last-minute packing, having to clear out your room as quickly as possible. It was mostly because of Lucca themselves, having to move out of their sister’s loft, so the timing was indeed tight. But hey, everything turned out well even though you look like a Yeti who hasn’t been able to find a place to rest.
It’s fine really, now you’ll be able to at least lie down before unpacking everything.
With a trembling hand, you manage to push the code in, the door opens and you’re just about to step in when you look up and find a shirtless man in your apartment. You don’t say anything, the both of you staring each other down for a quick second before you manage to close the door, convincing yourself you’re hallucinating.
It’s a thing, Ash had told you countless times whenever you managed to withhold an all-nighter in your shared place. First, there’s being overtired where every ounce of energy left bounces like a little child on a trampoline, then there’s the lack of sleep eating you alive even though your eyes fail you to shut, being used to staying open, which creates the last step: hallucinations.
Maybe it’s the lack of sex which made you paint a beautifully sculpted man with tattoos only in a towel in front of you.
You’re praising your brain for creating such a lively picture that causes you to grin and shake your head before you decide to re-enter.
He’s there again. Your horny hallucination.
The hallucination takes a turn when he screams into your face. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!”
It’s then that you snap yourself back to reality, realizing this indeed is a real person and you’ve managed to scare the shit out of him. The only thing you find yourself doing is scream back, which turns into violent screaming in unison and by now half of the neighborhood is probably writing a complaint to this very apartment.
“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!” You find the courage to finally scream back and the man in front of your eyes squints in discomfort, shaking his head as he swallows your words.
“Y-your apartment”
You fold your arms, scoffing as your head turns towards the open kitchen. “Yes. Mine.”
He begins to laugh, his abs tensing along with the rhythm and you hate yourself for growing hot over his upper body.
“You’re funny.” He points at you and to prove yourself to him, you look for the confirmation email that proves you have the right to own this place.
“Here.” He steps closer, the scent of his shampoo infiltrating your nostrils and you notice a form of sweet yet musky scent. While you’re too busy trying to ignore it, the man in front of you has his full attention on your screen.
He smacks his lips, his composure straightening along. “There has to be some sort of mistake.”
You hum in agreement.
How wrong could this possibly go?
The only solution that comes to mind like a wave, is to call the owner. You hold a finger up, pausing for whatever word is about to come out from the stranger in front of you while it starts to dial. It quickly gets interrupted, by a voice telling you the number doesn’t exist. You refuse to believe it, so you continue to call three to four times while the man crosses his arms, sighing out loud. It’s at that moment you notice the detailed and colored tattoos covering his arm in a sleeve.
“He’s… he’s not picking up.” The defeat drags itself at your feet. The proof you once had to own this apartment is gone, except the confirmation email but then again there must’ve been some mistake — a big one to say the least.
“Do you honestly believe that?” His tone indicates he’s irritated and the water droplets on his skin have almost dried out — the fact that you notice scares you more than the situation you’re currently met with.
“I mean, clearly, you’ve been scammed.” The words swallow you whole, your composure losing against you and your head drops with your heart. Of course, it was too good to be true, because again since when have you ever been lucky when you’re on your own?
“Fuck.”
It seems as if you’ve lost, but you’re not willing to give up just yet. You spent all of your savings on the deposit and the last thing you’ll do is ask your strict parents for money, which isn’t only super hard but exasperating as well.
“Well now that this whole problem is settled, get out.” The tone is harsh and you flinch, tears threatening to spill as you slowly walk to the entrance.
“Wait—” You hold your hands up, your feet freezing down on the tiled floor and the stranger’s expression turns into pure disgust yet confusion. You aren’t really sure, your mind is basically clouded; reasons being your lack of sleep. Which currently isn’t helping the situation you’re currently standing in. If only you could snatch it like Margot Robbie snatches bags and watches in ‘Focus’. This reminds you, you should probably watch it again, it was really good and—
“Hello?!” The sound catches you off guard, your eyes roaming back onto the half-naked stranger whose name still stays unknown.
“Just. Please.”
You’re fucking tired and this was the last thing that needed to be added onto your plate yet you’re still standing, except you’re hopeless and homeless.
“Please?! Get. Out.”
You drop down to your knees, your tears falling freely, and you plead.
“I have nowhere to go. My old roommate is finally starting a new life with her partner, my parents are fucking strict and are the last I’m calling for help. I’m basically fucking homeless and I just wanted to lay down in my apartment after moving out last minute, and sleep.” You’re rambling all kinds of nonsense, throwing a whole scene in front of a guy who’s stepped out of the shower. You feel bad but you’re lost.
You have nowhere to go.
“Seriously, I’m fucked. Help me out, just—just for six months and I’ll be out of your sight.” Your voice cracks, every limb that has managed to withhold your posture, collapsing all together into one.
You’re done.
A deep sigh catches your attention, your glossy eyes looking up to see a semi-smile resting on the guy’s face.
“Six months.” He repeats as he traces his fingers on the patterned ink, decorating his arm. “Fine. Just don’t make me regret this. I’m Jeongguk by the way.”
Finally, you discover the name of the pretty stranger.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” You’re holding yourself back from hugging him, mostly because of his naked chest and the last thing you need is to feel warm skin on your own.
Instead, you introduce yourself and he smiles awkwardly making you reconsider your awful ruckus from before. You basically admitted how fucked your life is at the moment, bringing along the strict parents into the mix and we all know, this won’t end well.
A sudden cry snatches every ounce of your attention, coming from one of the rooms. Has someone been here all this time?
“Shit. I think we might’ve woken her up.”
Her. Great, you’re gonna live with a clingy couple, after having no mercy in showing you were checking him out — multiple times. This is going to be absolute hell.
All while you’re imagining the messy and mostly awkward encounters you’re going to face while living with a couple, you don’t notice Jeongguk walking back out accompanied by a certain someone.
“A baby?!”
Great. Not only are you going to live with a couple, but their newborn baby too.
“You sound… surprised.” He decides to sit down, the baby’s head resting on his bare and tatted shoulder, doe-eyed and mouth agape.
“Where’s… where’s your girlfriend?”
Shit. Are you even listening to yourself? You met this guy not even an hour ago and you’re already invading his private life with intense questions.
“Don’t have one. It’s just me and So-ah here.” He taps her back, a few burps escaping her as you stay quiet.
The scenery in front of you causes a faint smile to appear on the brim of your lips. If you weren’t determined to own the apartment yourself, you’d let every ounce of you swoon over how careful Jeongguk is with his daughter.
Jeongguk takes a hold of her, changing positions as she faces him, her eyes as big as his. It’s crazy how alike they look.
Your heart melts into a thick puddle when Jeongguk rubs his nose against So-ah’s, a soft giggle sounding like a lullaby escaping her right after.
“Oh my god.” Jeongguk’s mouth drops and before confusion seeps through you he continues. “So-ah, you just laughed for the first time.”
Fuck. You’re so screwed.
“She’s adorable.” You smile fondly, Jeongguk breaking eye contact with his daughter at your comment.
His eyebrows frown, clearing his throat as he shifts in his seat. “Thanks.”
Okay, there were exactly two things that fumed you over his flat-toned answer.
One was that he was still a complete stranger and you’ve always felt somewhat threatened and uncomfortable when people you didn’t know made or said anything that clicked an icky feeling at the pit of your stomach, which quickly turns to irritation. Because here you are being fucking nice and you get this in return? What a fucking asshole.
Second, it’s probably an ego thing, thinking he’s hot enough to get away with being quite literally rude. If it weren’t for his sudden act of rudeness towards your very tired Yeti-looking state you might’ve actually grown fond of him, but that is all forgotten now.
You’re getting that fucking apartment.
Working as a kindergarten teacher meant a lot of things.
Patience, energy, and consistency.
For you to reach there before showing up at work, you’ll need to fuel your body with a smoothie.
The clock hasn’t even turned six when you push the mixer’s button, a loud noise erupting in the quiet apartment.
Did you do this on purpose knowing Jeongguk isn’t starting work yet? Maybe. Did he notice, is fucking angry and walking up to you at this moment? Very much so.
“Seriously? What the fuck?!”
The shouting from your roommate pleases your early morning state and you force an annoying smile as you greet him with a cheerful good morning.
“It’s for work!” You push the button for a little longer, his eyes rolling back when So-ah starts crying in the room next to you.
The daughter does make you feel an ounce of regret but that’s mostly because you love babies and she’s made a good impression on you already.
Jeongguk groans in frustration, his grumpy state returning back to his daughter to soothe her while you hurriedly get to work. Your colleague is probably already there, having a different schedule than you.
Traffic isn’t terrible and you’ve caught onto the lack of sleep that vanished during your moving week.
As you reach work, Taehyung waves excitedly to you from the entrance, while holding a cup of coffee.
“You look awfully happy.” Taehyung remarks when you walk past him and inside, re-adjusting a few things before the parents begin to arrive with their sunshine of kids.
“I am.”
Your mood definitely has something to do with nailing to piss Jeongguk off early in the morning. That’s what he gets for being a complete ass after you’ve embarrassed yourself multiple times, and just trying to be kind.
“Care to tell me?” Taehyung moves his eyebrows, suggesting you got lucky and you quickly shut down the idea, shaking your head no along with you explaining it was an early win for you.
“I basically pissed off my roommate this morning. He’s an asshole so he deserved it.” You shrug your shoulders, Taehyung following behind you as you both make the place ready, the clock ticking loudly behind you.
“Roommate? I thought you had the place all to yourself?” Taehyung hadn’t gotten any updates from you since your stressful week, so it made sense for him to be completely lost when you mention Jeongguk in the context of your cheerful mood this morning.
“I got scammed. But I’m not surprised. I’ve carried bad luck all my life and I blame it on my strict parents.” You joke, Taehyung chuckling nervously unsure if you’re completely kidding or deadly serious. It’s hard to tell.
“Scammed, meaning the apartment you thought you had was already occupied?” Taehyung has lived in the city all his life, has been familiar with the scammers roaming in between others, and cheating the system who carries a blind eye.
“Exactly, and here I was thinking shit like that only happens in the movies.” You scoff at the ridiculousness of the overall situation.
How come you ended here? Not only with a scam, but a buff tatted guy and his baby daughter? Truly fucking wild.
“Oh babe, you’d be surprised. So who’s the roommate? An old cranky guy?” Taehyung jokes once again, the sounds of chairs clinging against each other roaming in the air, the both of you settling in the common room ready for the children.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that…” Taehyung’s interest quirks an ounce higher, his movements stopping to a halt, waiting for you to spill.
“His name is Jeongguk and he has a baby daughter named So-ah.” Taehyung’s face drops, eyes wide as his mouth hangs wide because clearly, no old cranky guy is named Jeongguk.
“If you tell me right now he’s hot, I’m gonna think you’re outliving everyone’s fantasy.” Taehyung holds up his pointy finger, eyebrow intact with his overall movement and you cringe because you really don’t want to admit Jeongguk is hot — even though you totally ogled his abs for a good twenty minutes the first time you met him.
“He’s—” You try to form it into words while your mind flashing images of Jeongguk with wet hair, droplets of water covering his abs that tensed whenever he chuckled at your ridiculousness the day you got scammed.
“Oh my god… You’re living with a DILF.” The term Taehyung uses makes you wheeze, losing composure as you move your body along with the laughter that escapes you.
Taehyung doesn’t get more of a word before the first pair of parents walk in, hand in hand with their child.
The day has just begun.
Meanwhile, Jeongguk is currently taking care of So-ah. She hasn’t stopped crying since you decided to be annoying, and flush down the good morning that Jeongguk had anticipated down the drain.
Maybe he should kick you out, because right now? His left ear hasn’t stopped ringing while his daughter’s face is almost purely red due to her countless cries.
“So-ah, please.” Jeongguk places her down on his chest, her face rubbing on it, wetting it along, the discomforting sound continuing. Jeongguk feels lost and he wants to avenge himself on you because you’re probably dancing at work while he’s here, with dark eye bags and a crying baby under his arm.
Sometimes it makes him wonder if it would be different if So-ah’s mother were still around. Maybe she wouldn’t cry as much.
Afterall, a mother’s touch is important for babies at her age, and Jeongguk feels guilty.
In reality, he just wants So-ah to be okay, to feel understood, and frankly, at the moment understanding her is difficult. He continues to pat her back, rocking her back and forth in his gaming chair, set up by the computer that has an awaiting meeting for him in two hours.
He can do this, he’ll just freshen up as soon as she goes back to sleep.
The day spins around faster than possible, the sun already setting behind the building in an orange glow and Taehyung is currently wiping down the mess that was left on the tables since lunch.
“So, regarding your DILF, is he single?” You’re close to spilling the scene where you asked Jeongguk where his partner was only to get a no, which only made you more curious than before. It isn’t likely for you in the span of living to have met a single father. In most cases it’s single mothers, so to say you were surprised was an understatement.
“He—Yes, apparently he is.” You’re uncertain and Taehyung casually nods at the response, making you reconsider if you’re even allowed to be curious regarding Jeongguk’s living situation.
“Well, this is the start of a beautiful love story.”
You stick your tongue out in offense to Taehyung’s joke while he cracks himself up, boxy smile on display as well.
“You’re the worst.” He trails right behind you as you close down the place, and leave it behind for tomorrow.
“Right, but if anyone were to ask you’d still point at me for being the best colleague you’ve ever had.” He’s not entirely wrong and you get to prove it to him by remaining silent.
After you and Taehyung part ways, you hurry home in desperation to see if the grumpy expression is still remaining on Jeongguk’s face from this morning.
To your surprise, it isn’t.
You find Jeongguk sprawled on the couch, his chest exposed and his baby daughter laying on top of him, both of them breathing in sync.
If Jeon Jeongguk didn’t open his mouth from time to time you’d start to like him, because seeing him sleep in complete silence makes him seem…not so bad as you had thought.
But then again he was rude even though he certainly helped you out after your scam episode.
You decide to make dinner, leaving the both of them to rest while listening to soothing jazz music. Somehow with time passing by and the smell filtering through the apartment as it cooks, Jeongguk stirs awake, So-ah along with him. He manages to push himself upwards, holding onto So-ah and finds you swaying as you cook in the open kitchen.
Memories cloud Jeongguk’s mind back when he was still with—
“Oh! You’re awake.”
You had felt a pair of eyes boring at your back, so when you turn to see Jeongguk spacing out you make yourself noticeable.
“Yeah, it smells great by the way.”
It’s then Jeongguk realizes he’s yet to wear a shirt and it’s become an accidental habit of being shirtless in front of you. The last thing he wants is for you to get the wrong signal.
“Thank you.” You take the compliment lightly, letting it pass by your head so your focus remains on the main goal; having Jeongguk willingly move out.
Jeongguk is completely oblivious to your plan, although it would make sense if he slowly started to catch on to your smoothie early morning surprise. But for now, you’re hungry and there’s still a good five months left before you leave each other’s sight.
The dinner turns out successful, So-ah doesn’t cry once and both you and Jeongguk groan afterward, bloated from overeating. He thanks you before returning back to his room, leaving you to do all the dishes.
Great.
Living with Jeongguk had run smoothly, your hopes in gaining the apartment fading the more time went by with him being extremely kind. It hadn’t offended you but you were certain he was rude and didn’t like you.
But early Monday morning, Jeongguk proved to you exactly how much that apartment means to you.
You hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep that night, the walls a lot thinner than you had anticipated, and So-ah had cried most of the night, not only waking her dad but you as well.
Babies are wonderful creatures, but at night it surely paints a different motive than the one you’re being met with during the day.
Blaming Jeongguk for your lack of sleep would be rude on your part, so you accept it by making a cup of coffee early in the morning. It was the next best solution, and as you’re sitting on the counter waiting for the water to boil, Jeongguk walks in dressed in black joggers and a white t-shirt.
“Morning.”
You’re holding back from laughing at how alike the both of you look. So-ah really destroyed you for the better. Jeongguk joins in on the coffee solution, making his mug ready right next to you in silence.
When the water is ready, you jump down, pouring the warm water after adding a few teaspoons of instant coffee. Jeongguk follows you right after, stirring it with his spoon. As you walk towards the refrigerator, Jeongguk is quicker than you, pulling the milk out and pouring it into his mug.
“Could you pass me the milk?”
Jeongguk grins at your question and it’s then you notice he’s poured the remaining drops, leaving no milk for you.
Fucking marvelous.
“Better luck next time.” He winks at you, slowly walking back to his room as you flick him off without him noticing.
Yeah, you definitely spoke too soon when you even let yourself think Jeongguk might be a nice guy.
He’s not and he just started a war.
Taehyung notices how different your state is today, the flatlined smile throwing him off guard. Being the good colleague that he is, he makes you sit down as he prepares everything.
“I’m not doing this for free, spill.”
You groan out of tiredness and anger, holding your face that can barely keep up with everything around you.
“Fucking…Jeongguk.” You squint your eyes, already plotting how you’ll manage to rip every part of him apart. Taehyung would lie if he admitted that you in your current state aren't scaring the shit out of him.
“I was beginning to think he was remotely nice, until this morning.”
Taehyung hums along, uncertain where exactly you’re heading with this conversation. It’s something Taehyung has learned about you in the past years you’ve worked alongside, your conversations always turn in a different direction no matter how precisely you start them.
“Taehyung, would you get pissed if someone took the rest of the milk when you’ve already prepared a cup of coffee?”
“He didn’t—”
Everything makes sense for Taehyung.
Jeongguk has practically started a war with you because one thing everyone should know when it comes to you is to never mess with your morning coffee. Specifically when you desperately need one.
“He surely fucking did.” You scoff out of disbelief. “He even laughed when he emptied it.” The images flash through your brain once more, a betrayal that has caused a lot of damage to your already ruined morning state due to So-ah.
“Go make yourself some coffee, and don’t let him get to your head for now. It’s not worth it.”
Taehyung was right, it would stupid to hold milk accountable for Jeongguk and your reasons for despising him. Hopefully, it was a mistake and you’ll return home with a better state of mind, Jeongguk leaving you rather at peace.
You follow Taehyung’s instructions, walking inside the semi-small kitchen for staff, and begin making your fuel for the day.
Work turns out easier after you get coffee in your system. Taehyung takes most of the tasks throughout the day to ease down any forms of headaches that might come along due to your lack of sleep. Small moments and gestures like these, remind you how truly lucky you are to have a colleague like Taehyung. He has never made things more difficult, always managing to make everything easy and simple.
As soon as the clock strikes, parents fill up the entrance awaiting their children who are too busy playing outside, enjoying their free time. The sun has already moved down further, creating a beautiful sunset, whose golden rays move along the filled playground that’s messy due to every toy in sight being used throughout the day. The parents were kind enough to teach their kids to always clean up after themselves, leaving the entrance the remaining spot to clean.
When you’re about to reach for a broom, Taehyung catches it before you.
“Go home. I got this.” His voice is stern as if he already knows you’re about to plead to do it yourself.
You let out a sigh, thanking him as many times as you can in the span of you dressing yourself up to go outside. Taehyung brushes you off, a semi-smile resting nicely on his framed face.
The apartment is empty, silent, and dark when you enter. You wonder where Jeongguk must’ve gone, the sky from outside already an ounce darker than when you stepped out from work. You’re not too worried, your petty self still being remotely annoyed with the morning incident.
When you walk past the living room, you feel yourself crash down, wanting to watch a movie.
It’s much needed after today and maybe it’ll slowly lull you to sleep. Since you were little, sleeping at night had always been a difficulty so a distraction in the background could likely push you towards the sleep you’ve been craving.
You settle on watching a crime film that piques your interest on Netflix. You’ve managed to add a bit more lighting inside the apartment, a few lamps surrounding the couch.
The plot starts to reveal itself, leaving you speechless as you bite down on the blanket, eyes fully open, trailing along whenever someone moves on screen. You’re just about to catch a big lead to why the certain murder occurred when Jeongguk walks in with So-ah drinking from a bottle.
“Oh, hey.” You quickly say before averting your attention back on the screen. Jeongguk squints his eyes, having trouble seeing the big screen but as soon as he catches on, he tsks.
“Wait— Isn’t that the film where the protagonist is actually the killer?” The moment Jeongguk speaks, a clue leads to having the protagonist on the list of who might’ve done it and now Jeon Jeongguk just asked for a ticket to hell.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You exclaim loudly, throwing both hands and arms in the air, frustration seeping through every vein coursing through your body. You’re seeing absolute red.
“Oh shit, my bad.” You aren’t even glancing towards him, but you can hear the shit eating grin he’s trying to suppress. You close your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, remembering Taehyung’s words from earlier. It’s not worth it. He’s right, it truly isn’t and you’re being weak by letting small annoying things set you off like a grenade.
You’re not letting him win. Things have only just begun.
Returning the favor with annoying gestures had only turned the next two months into a living hell. The apartment went from walking on a dream to walking on eggshells.
It had started with a minor mistake in the early morning with the dreadful lack of sleep and constant bickering. Your dreams of owning the apartment slowly crashing as you’ve been looking for new apartments, wanting to get furthest away from Jeon Jeongguk and his annoying behavior.
If it weren’t for your colleague you would’ve handled the situation differently, but Taehyung has always assured you to stand your ground and not let him get to you.
Jeongguk has already been kind enough for you to stay, so to make it easier, it’d be best not to mess it up by revenging yourself. But you badly wanted to. Just once. To see Jeongguk’s face twist to annoyance in a mere second, while you try your best not to sing happily right after.
Although, the only thing keeping both you and Jeongguk on the ground from ripping one's hair out, was So-ah. Her magical baby powers overrule the both of you, and her eyes are wide and full of hope for what’s to come.
When you had first moved in, Jeongguk wasn’t exactly fond of you being near his daughter but with time and his suddenly busy schedule, he had you keep an eye out for So-ah who was distracting him too much with her cuteness. So-ah quickly loved your company, your small jokes, and countless attempts in making her giggle. Jeongguk couldn’t keep you two away from one another, so he accepted it.
The weekend had finally rolled around and after a week of none other than small bickering and disagreements between you and Jeongguk, you were finally at ease in your bedroom. The discussions between you were ridiculous — Taehyung’s words not yours. It could go from a minor detail, like the temperature in the apartment to a full-on debate on whether the film he wants to watch is better than your own choice.
As you’re laying in your bed, you look up at the painted dark blue ceiling, your curtains open, accepting the outside light to shine in. You’ve always loved the natural darkness and how it covers every room differently than if everything is covered, turning to full darkness. You turn constantly, your mind being more awake than you had anticipated. It humors you that you always feel exhausted after speaking with Jeongguk, yet here you are alone full of energy.
Tossing and turning continue for what feels like an hour and you decide to give up. Rather than reading a book, you walk out to grab a glass of water, your throat feeling a bit dry. You figure Jeongguk isn’t awake at three in the morning, which explains why you don’t put on pants, walking out in nothing but a satin white t-shirt paired with black lace underwear.
Even though you don’t like Jeongguk, you still show respect to him and his daughter by carefully walking to the kitchen to not make any sounds.
The living room has the same light as your bedroom, and as you’re about to turn, you bump into Jeongguk. His skin feels warm, but you quickly pull away and Jeongguk blinks at you with tired eyes.
“M’ sorry.” His voice is deep, groggy even and you collect the dots that Jeon Jeongguk just woke up.
“All good.”
Thankfully, Jeongguk is too busy going to the bathroom to notice your sleeping attire that exposes half of your body. You sigh in relief, accidentally catching a glimpse of Jeongguk’s ass, being hugged by his boxers as he walks further away from you.
You shake your head, ignoring what your eyes caught onto, focusing solemnly on getting water as planned.
You’re just about to drink your last cup when Jeongguk walks past you once again.
You’re not in the mood to talk to him, so you chug your water wanting to leave the kitchen as quickly as possible. It doesn’t exactly go as planned, the water trickling by the corners of your lips, further down your shirt.
“Fuck.” You groan, realizing how much you’ve accidentally spilled. The fabric clings onto your breasts and as you’re about to pull on it, you catch Jeongguk turning his head quickly from your direction. The action doesn’t throw itself in your head, instead, you become annoyed.
“What?”
Why is he still standing here? Shouldn’t he already be back in his room by now?
“J-just grabbing some water.” Jeongguk mumbles, his voice becoming an ounce lower, and somehow it catches your attention that he sounds nervous?
“Be my guest.” You move further away, trying to cover your lower half that’s exposing too much to your roommate who has managed to piss you off for two months straight with absolutely no reason.
Jeongguk keeps his eyes on the sink, although you throw a glance at him and you really wish you hadn’t. His arms are flexing as they hold onto the counter, and the prominent veins and lines of his definite muscles are showcased. You begin to notice each small detail of his tattoos that have managed to flow into one big art piece on his arm.
You’ve been too annoyed with Jeongguk to notice the minor details of him. The Adam's apple bops in the rhythm of the gulps he takes, almost inhaling the water quickly. Somehow your body reacts quicker than your mind, shivers coursing through your body the longer you stand and watch Jeongguk. The staring gets cut off when Jeongguk places the empty cup down on the counter.
He throws a glance your way, your skin already feeling hot by the close space.
“Well, goodnight.” Jeongguk walks past you, your faces inches apart for a split second before he’s gone from your sight.
When you lay back down in your bed, your heart is beating incredibly fast and your body doesn’t stop growing hotter.
What is wrong with you? This is Jeongguk. As in your roommate, who’s made it his life’s mission in pissing you off and almost made you explode like a grenade for the whole world to see and the neighborhood to hear.
All while you’re wondering why exactly your brain feels fuzzy, Jeongguk is freaking out in his own room.
His dick has managed to betray him. He blames it on his lack of hookups, but deep down he knows it was because of you. His mind had fogged for a minute when he caught a glimpse of what was hiding underneath your t-shirt, but as soon as the water dripped down he didn’t even have to try, and guess. He’s angry and frustrated at himself and if it were possible to have a one-on-one fight with his dick, he would’ve. His body had only betrayed him and that made him certain that he had to stay far away from you.
Although, whenever Jeongguk closed his eyes he could see your naked thighs, and the black lace seeping through the material of your shirt. He could see the water dripping down your neck, rolling further down your chest and creating a wet patch on your—
This has to stop. Jeongguk begins to think of everything that turns him off until his state finally gives in, letting him sleep.
It takes longer for you. Your mind has always loved to play tricks, letting you imagine the what if’s of every situation you’re met with. They’re simple at first, only showcasing what you had seen earlier when your eyes didn’t stop studying every minor detail on Jeongguk.
But then they turn an ounce wilder.
You’re tracing your fingers on the ink, while his arm is holding onto your waist, keeping you close and letting you feel his warm breath against your cheek.
Fuck.
Do you…do you want Jeongguk?
Taehyung notices it the moment you step into work; how quiet you are, not daring to meet his eyes when he cheerfully greets you.
Something happened and you’re not exactly proud of it.
“So…am I gonna have to ask or are you going to tell me what happened?”
Your eyes pop open, gulping down as you mumble out a weak ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ and quickly move on with your tasks for the day.
Taehyung isn't letting that slide so easily and sooner or later he’ll either find out for himself or you’ll tell him out of panic.
It takes Kim Taehyung exactly four hours to find out exactly what has been bothering you, and just as you’re about to leave the kindergarten, he decides to bring it up.
“You want to fuck him.”
You stop in your tracks.
Okay, now is the time to use your fifth grade theater skills, and act as if Taehyung didn’t speak your thoughts out in the open.
“Fuck Jeongguk? As in Jeon Jeongguk, my annoying roommate who’s made my living situation a living hell the past two months? Oh please.”
“Y/N, you know that doesn’t work on me.”
You sigh loudly, rolling your eyes.
“Fine…fine!” You throw your hands in the air, giving up and Taehyung just shakes his head over your dramatic antics.
“I thought you, ‘hated his guts’.” Taehyung quotes you from the past hundred conversations you’ve had regarding your roommate, and the new banter you’ve yet shared before you left for work.
“I still do! This will fade, do not worry.”
Not only are you trying to convince Taehyung, but yourself as well.
Taehyung doesn’t argue with you. You have enough on your plate already and he knows you’re very much conscious of the mess you’ve brought upon yourself.
When you leave work and Taehyung, your phone starts to ring in your pocket and you’re thrilled to see Ash’s name displayed.
“Hi!” Your friend cheerfully greets you and the conversation immediately flows.
She tells you how amazing it’s been living with Lucca and how they’re currently making her favorite dish.
“That’s great, Ash.”
When she’s about to ask you how your new apartment is, Lucca cuts her off, talking on the phone instead.
“Y/N, come over! We have your favorite wine.”
The offer tempts and you agree, taking transportation towards your old apartment. It doesn’t even faze you to text Jeongguk that you’ll come home a bit later, too excited to see your friends again after so long.
Jeongguk has just finished changing So-ah’s diaper, when he realizes it’s dark outside, and you haven’t come home yet. Just as he begins to worry, he scolds himself internally for worrying about you as if he even cares about you in the first place. You’re doing fine without him. Right?
So-ah grabs Jeongguk’s attention when she manages to roll over for the first time and Jeongguk cheers her on, grabbing her face to give her kisses everywhere, her small arms flapping excitedly.
“Wait, you have a roommate?” Lucca asks, as they pour a glass of wine in your almost empty glass. You find yourself sighing whenever Jeongguk is mentioned and you quickly see the images of his body against the natural darkness in the kitchen.
“Yes, two actually.”
You spend the following thirty minutes explaining your scam situation, Jeongguk and his baby daughter now being your roommates for the next six months. You mention your irritation towards Jeongguk due to his annoying antics, and the kitchen encounter.
“Woah.” Ash’s mouth has gone dry from keeping it open for a while, and Lucca doesn’t hesitate to drink up the rest of the wine in their glass.
The situation is indeed complicated and overwhelming, and you chug along with Lucca on the wine while Ash starts coughing.
“But listen, just because I’ve thought about it doesn’t mean I would.”
Excuses, that’s all you can bring to the table and Ash rolls her eyes at your ridiculousness.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You haven’t had sex for almost a year. Babe, sorry but you’re gonna cave.”
Your mouth drops in offense and you turn to get Lucca on your side, but they stay quiet which indicates they agree with every word.
“S-seriously? You’re gonna pick Ash’s side over mine?” You point at your ex-roommate who smirks, knowing she’s won.
“Y/N, you need a distraction.” Ash speaks first, holding onto both of your hands for comfort because she’s worried, you can see it in her eyes that slightly crinkle when she speaks.
“A distraction?”
“Yes, someone who isn’t Jeongguk.”
Lucca winces at the idea, watching Ash explain an idea that’s nothing but awful and stupid.
“Um, maybe this isn’t—” Lucca tries to butt in, but Ash is stubborn.
“Nonsense. Isn’t your friend Han-bin still single?”
“Well, yes but—”
“Perfect. Y/N, you should go on a date with Han-bin. Not only is he a very sweet guy, but he’s an excellent cook.” Ash tries her hardest to sell Han-bin as best as possible for you, and at this point you’re desperate to try anything.
Anything to get Jeongguk and his beautiful body out of your mind.
“Okay, you can give him my number.”
Lucca is about to throw a fight with Ash, but you’ve already agreed so there’s no point.
“You’re not going to regret this babe.” Ash convinces you but deep down your gut feeling shifts uncomfortably at the idea.
Two and a half weeks.
That’s how long it takes for you and Han-bin to find some time for the date that he’s planning. The pictures frame him nicely and it’s no lie that the guy is attractive, although your mood is dreading a weird feeling that you can’t exactly pinpoint.
As you walk towards the exit, Jeongguk notices how nicely dressed you are. Normally you don’t bother adding a formality to your outfits, but this…this is too classy, just not you.
“Going somewhere?”
You turn your head, Jeongguk watching you from the couch as So-ah is laying on his lap, holding onto her dad’s pinky.
“Actually, yes I am.” You answer confidently, holding tightly onto the strap of your bag.
The bag in whom your mom gifted you for your eighteenth birthday, when in reality you had just wished for Jackson Wang merch. The bag is more expensive than your rent, and you feel weird using it today. Somehow you aren’t that comfortable being yourself yet, also the restaurant Han-bin has picked out is way too expensive for you to just wear your casual attire.
“But, I’m gonna be late for my date so I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Jeongguk tries not to react to the word date but his jaw clenches as he tries to force out a fake smile.
“Good for you.” Jeongguk expects you to leave right away, but you catch him by surprise, walking towards him and So-ah.
“Bye, sweet girl.” You squish her cheeks softly, as she coos excitedly and Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat at the love seeping through the room. His daughter watches you with careful eyes as you remove yourself from the frame, walking towards the front door and Jeongguk’s heart doesn’t stop pounding, so much that he thinks he might faint.
You’ve only been gone for an hour and Jeongguk can’t stop thinking about you.
His mind constantly brings him back to the small kitchen encounter, and how both of your faces were inches apart for a split second before he continued to walk towards his room.
He needs to make this stop. He’s here at home groaning and frustrated over you, you who’s currently on a date, and having a wonderful time.
“And then, my roommate proceeded to drink the same water!” Han-bin explains jokingly, and you’ve lost track of the many experiences he’s had with his four roommates. You’ve lost your appetite halfway through, the gross details clouding your mind, but thankfully it’s that, and not Jeongguk.
Before you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, Han-bin compliments your hair and you smile at the sincerity of his comment. It makes you realize that Jeongguk has never once pointed out something great about you.
Wait, why are you even thinking about Jeongguk?
There’s only one solution for Jeongguk to get you out of his mind. He’s collected the dots and it’s because he hasn’t sex for over a year that he’s acting this way. You just managed to set him off. It’s nothing more personal than that.
So, easily he’ll just need to get out there, maybe Jimin would be down to go clubbing tonight, and hopefully Jeongguk gets to take someone home.
Which explains why he’s now talking to his sister, arranging for her to have So-ah for the night. She gladly accepts, her husband shouting nonsense in the background which causes Jeongguk to laugh before his sister has to hang up because of her husband most likely messing up everything in the kitchen.
The date for you might’ve started out a bit weird, but slowly you realize Han-bin is a really nice guy and you enjoy talking to him. The conversation has a good balance, both of you speaking equally about interests, experiences…
“Want me to walk you home?” Han-bin suggests.
You have a lot on your mind, even though you managed to have a nice evening it doesn’t stop the nonsense that you’ve created for yourself regarding your roommate who you have the hots for.
“I’m okay, thank you for tonight Han-bin.”
It’s a little over midnight when you arrive home.
The apartment is dark which is code for bedtime for the whole house. You move quietly, tiptoeing to your room and trying your best to not make a sound.
You hear a sudden whine echoing in the apartment, and before you can ask any questions, Jeongguk’s name is being moaned loudly. Your body freezes in place, and you feel like you’re stuck to the floor.
Unfortunately, the moans don’t slow down, only increasing — the thin walls doing no favor for you.
Emotions are all over the place. You don’t know if you’re angry, irritated, sad, happy, uncomfortable…you’re just stuck with no words.
As you finally lay down, you squish a third pillow over your head, blocking out the skin slapping sounds, and somehow, weirdly enough, the situation motivates you to get Jeon Jeongguk out of your head.
Two and a half weeks. That’s how long it takes for you and Han-bin to find some time for the date that he’s planning. The pictures frame him nicely and it’s no lie that the guy is attractive, although your mood is dreading a weird feeling that you can’t exactly pinpoint.
As you walk towards the exit, Jeongguk notices how nicely dressed you are. Normally you don’t bother adding a formality to your outfits, but this…this is too classy, just not you.
“Going somewhere?”
You turn your head, Jeongguk watching you from the couch as So-ah is laying on his lap, holding onto her dad’s pinky.
“Actually, yes I am.” You answer confidently, holding tightly onto the strap of your bag.
The bag in whom your mom gifted you for your eighteenth birthday, when in reality you had just wished for Jackson Wang merch. The bag is more expensive than your rent, and you feel weird using it today. Somehow you aren’t that comfortable being yourself yet, also the restaurant Han-bin has picked out is way too expensive for you to just wear your casual attire.
“But, I’m gonna be late for my date so I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Jeongguk tries not to react to the word date but his jaw clenches as he tries to force out a fake smile.
“Good for you.” Jeongguk expects you to leave right away, but you catch him by surprise, walking towards him and So-ah.
“Bye, sweet girl.” You squish her cheeks softly, as she coos excitedly and Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat at the love seeping through the room. His daughter watches you with careful eyes as you remove yourself from the frame, walking towards the front door and Jeongguk’s heart doesn’t stop pounding, so much that he thinks he might faint.
You’ve only been gone for an hour and Jeongguk can’t stop thinking about you.
His mind constantly brings him back to the small kitchen encounter, and how both of your faces were inches apart for a split second before he continued to walk towards his room.
He needs to make this stop. He’s here at home groaning and frustrated over you, you who’s currently on a date, and having a wonderful time.
“And then, my roommate proceeded to drink the same water!” Han-bin explains jokingly, and you’ve lost track of the many experiences he’s had with his four roommates. You’ve lost your appetite halfway through, the gross details clouding your mind, but thankfully it’s that, and not Jeongguk.
Before you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, Han-bin compliments your hair and you smile at the sincerity of his comment. It makes you realize that Jeongguk has never once pointed out something great about you.
Wait, why are you even thinking about Jeongguk?
There’s only one solution for Jeongguk to get you out of his mind. He’s collected the dots and it’s because he hasn’t sex for over a year that he’s acting this way. You just managed to set him off. It’s nothing more personal than that.
So, easily he’ll just need to get out there, maybe Jimin would be down to go clubbing tonight, and hopefully Jeongguk gets to take someone home.
Which explains why he’s now talking to his sister, arranging for her to have So-ah for the night. She gladly accepts, her husband shouting nonsense in the background which causes Jeongguk to laugh before his sister has to hang up because of her husband most likely messing up everything in the kitchen.
The date for you might’ve started out a bit weird, but slowly you realize Han-bin is a really nice guy and you enjoy talking to him. The conversation has a good balance, both of you speaking equally about interests, experiences…
“Want me to walk you home?” Han-bin suggests.
You have a lot on your mind, even though you managed to have a nice evening it doesn’t stop the nonsense that you’ve created for yourself regarding your roommate who you have the hots for.
“I’m okay, thank you for tonight Han-bin.”
It’s a little over midnight when you arrive home.
The apartment is dark which is code for bedtime for the whole house. You move quietly, tiptoeing to your room and trying your best to not make a sound.
You hear a sudden whine echoing in the apartment, and before you can ask any questions, Jeongguk’s name is being moaned loudly. Your body freezes in place, and you feel like you’re stuck to the floor.
Unfortunately, the moans don’t slow down, only increasing — the thin walls doing no favor for you.
Emotions are all over the place. You don’t know if you’re angry, irritated, sad, happy, uncomfortable…you’re just stuck with no words.
As you finally lay down, you squish a third pillow over your head, blocking out the skin slapping sounds, and somehow, weirdly enough, the situation motivates you to get Jeon Jeongguk out of your head.
Step one to get Jeon Jeongguk out of your head, find a clubbing partner.
“Taehyung, shut up you haven’t done anything other than complain about the lack of sex you’ve been experiencing lately.” You reason, as you look through your closet for eye-catching clothes that surely will get you laid.
“Fuck you, you always know what to say to get me to agree.”
With a groan Taehyung finally says the magic word, telling you he’ll see you later. This was easier than you had expected.
Step two to get Jeon Jeongguk out of your head, find a club loaded with hot people.
Thankfully, Taehyung knows his way around town and the club he’s picked out is perfect. As soon as you both step in, the neon lights catch you off guard along with the hard base and the moving dance floor.
Going out with Taehyung is fun, until he’s shoving his tongue down a guy’s throat. Apparently they met by the bar, and Taehyung being the flirt, persuaded the stranger easily.
Sipping on your straw, you keep your eyes on a lookout for a potential hookup. Most are occupied, either sexting someone or having someone close by. The bartender in front of you notices the wearing frown that covers your face.
“You okay?”
The unrecognizable voice catches you off guard and when you set eyes on the bartender, your mouth tries not to drop.
The bartender is wearing a tight black t-shirt, showcasing his pecs and built shoulders. His hair is long, pulled behind a snapback. He looks at you with a worried expression, holding onto the counter.
“I’m okay.” You force a smile.
“Come on, I can tell something is bothering you. I’m all ears.”
The offer is kind and just as you’re about to say no, he continues.
“Listen, I couldn’t help but notice your friend making out with that guy for the past thirty minutes.” You turn around, Taehyung still going at it, and you roll your eyes over your colleague being better than you at getting some.
“Yeah, he’s got more luck than myself.” You sigh, folding your arms over the counter, and the bartender cracks a laugh.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get lucky.” He winks and your body grows hot.
“I’m giving it an hour, or else I’m leaving.” You crack, and the bartender raises his eyebrows.
You watch as he walks to the far side of the bar and comes out front to stand right in front of you. He towers over you, and you have to lift your head to look into his eyes, watching as they darken. One of his hands snakes around to the small of your back as he pulls you towards him. Your chest is flushed against his own and now you can really feel the hardness of his pecs, and your mouth waters. He places his other hand around to the side of your neck, lowering himself closer to your face. His lips ghost over your ear, the skin making the slightest contact as he speaks.
“You don't need an hour.”
A shiver rakes through your body at the proposition.
“I don't even know your name,” you say with a hint of a giggle laced in your tone.
“The name's Namjoon.” You nod, tracing your finger on his broad shoulder while his eyes continue to explore every inch of you.
“Y/N.”
His grip tightens on you, and before you get a chance to speak Namjoon beats you to it.
“Wanna get out of here?”
It takes nothing more than for you to drag Namjoon home with you, leaving Taehyung and his hookup behind.
Namjoon is so bold that you’re completely blown away by his confidence. He’s managed to make you wet before even reaching your apartment. His words only build up the intensity of the situation and when you finally reach the front door, you look back, Namjoon biting on his lip as he patiently waits.
When the key is turned, you grab Namjoon by the collar of his bomber jacket as you push inside the apartment, until you reach your room.
Namjoon doesn’t waste another minute, grabbing you once again by the waist to connect your lips in a needy and passionate kiss. It’s full of tongue, along with lip bites. You whine against them when the tip of his tongue coats your bottom lip as he mischievously smirks.
Your hands tug on his neck, pulling him as close as you can, all while his hands slip under your shirt, and roam on your naked back. His hands are slightly cold, sending a shiver. With enough pulling on each other’s clothes in desperation, Namjoon is the first to pull away trying to catch his breath.
“Take off your shirt.” You don’t hesitate to obey, tugging on your top in a hurry before it lands on your bedroom floor.
Jeongguk had just finished a last minute task at work, realizing he had enough time for a game of Overwatch. He’s focused on aiming, fingers moving at a speed on the controller. Just as he’s about to reach a win, he hears the front door close.
He removes his headset, in doubt if he should walk out and greet you, ask you about your night with Taehyung or stay, and play stubborn. The decision gets made for him, when he hears an unfamiliar voice coming from your room.
Wait.
Namjoon hovers over you, his hands wandering over your upper body, not missing one inch. His warm breath almost swallows you whole as you slowly spread your legs further beneath him.
He catches the signal quickly, moving more downwards, letting his mouth trail wildly on your naked skin. He nips at it softly, before replacing it with a wet kiss.
As he’s reached further down, Namjoon locks eyes with you, supporting both hands on your waist.
“Can I eat you out?”
When Jeongguk hears the first moan from your room, he feels instant irritation. In reality, it’s not anything he can actually get mad about when not even twenty four hours ago, he was knees deep in a stranger. But something ticks in Jeongguk when he hears how someone else is making you moan like that.
“Ah—Fuck!” Your grip tightens on Namjoon’s long dark hair, his tongue rolling over your clit in circles.
Namjoon is making sure you feel every inch of pleasure, taking his time with his mouth and fingers. You’ve forgotten how great it feels, and Namjoon was definitely the right guy to bring home.
His mouth pushes further against your core, lapping his tongue wherever it can reach and your legs begin to shake under his touch. It’s been a while for you, so your body doesn’t hold you back any further from reaching climax.
Jeongguk has blocked out the sounds from your room with his headphones. The sounds from Overwatch are helping him hear only the gunshots and effects the game carries, yet the sounds don’t stop him from feeling a tinge of jealousy. He doesn’t want to admit it, too stubborn to do so.
But the thought of someone making you come undone this second, settles itself as an uncomfortable pit in his stomach, and he grabs his controller more aggressively, frustration coursing through his veins.
What are you doing to him?
Time passes quickly, both you and Jeongguk distancing each other from one another.
You barely throw a glance at one another.
For example, yesterday when Jeongguk passed by the living room, you were sitting in silence as New Girl rolled in the background. He knows you could hear him passing, but you didn’t even bother to acknowledge him.
Jeongguk wishes deep down that the action didn’t hurt him, but somehow it did and now he can’t be around you for his own well being.
Which results in one month of barely any contact.
Although, it changes the day Jeongguk has to go to a meeting. His boss was okay with him bringing So-ah as Ji-eun didn’t have time to pick her up for a few hours — and he surely didn’t want to ask you.
So-ah behaves, zero disturbance caused to the meeting and Jeongguk lets her hold his pinky while his boss throws in the plan for the upcoming year.
When the meeting ends, Jeongguk gets a lot of praise from his boss which flusters him as he leaves the building.
“Ready to go home So-ah?” She responds with her mouth doing all kinds of noises. She’s slowly growing more, and Jeongguk is touched by how beautiful his daughter is becoming with each passing day.
Going home doesn’t go as planned. You see, Jeongguk had always worked from home, due to his job consisting mostly of online work. So he barely leaves the apartment except for grocery shopping or to meet Jimin. Which is the reason behind his big mistake; forgetting his keys.
It was a new system. The code for opening doors had been dropped after scam episodes had increased. Last month the whole residency got new locks along with a pair of keys.
Jeongguk hates himself, because now there’s only one solution and he really doesn’t want to go there.
When he pulls up by the kindergarten, Jeongguk mentally prays the interaction won’t be awkward. Not that it hasn’t been awkward the last month, but this is different. He’s about to enter your workplace for a goddamn key because his ass rushed out the apartment instead of being smart and double checking that he had everything before leaving in a hurry.
You’re gonna hate him for this.
He can already imagine the slight frown you’ll have, trying your best not to scold him harshly.
It’s empty when Jeongguk walks in, So-ah sitting comfortably in the infant car seat, which Jeongguk holds onto tightly.
“Hello?” He calls out, the hallway completely deserted. That’s until a man peeks his head out, raising both eyebrows.
“Hi, can I help you?” He walks towards him, drying his hands in what seems to be a cloth.
“Hi, yes. I’m looking for Y/N.”
The man in front of him drops his mouth before it turns to a boxy grin.
“Oh my god. Are you Jeongguk?” The face Jeongguk makes, proves the man’s assumption.
“Taehyung? Could you come help me with—Jeongguk?” He turns to see you, your brows in a frown as he suspected.
“Oh, you’re Taehyung?” Jeongguk completely ignores your confused state, too excited to meet the Kim Taehyung that his roommate is very fond of.
“An honor.” Taehyung bows comically, and Jeongguk cracks a laugh from the action. Just as Taehyung is about to crouch down to say hello to the little one, you step further, meeting Jeongguk eye to eye.
“Jeongguk? What are you doing here?” You ask.
Taehyung ignores your question, greeting So-ah gently as Jeongguk explains to you the situation. He tries to make himself sound less stupid than he was in the situation, but you don’t seem to buy it.
You sigh, crossing your arms. “How do you even forget a key?”
Great, you’re starting a fight.
“It just happened, now can I borrow yours so I can go home?” Jeongguk’s tone is a bit snappy, and you notice, quickly fuming on the inside.
Taehyung notices the tension, sending a glance to So-ah that screams ‘am I seeing this too?’ So-ah starts giggling and Taehyung knows internally that she agrees with him. He loves her already.
“Fine, just—Don’t let this happen again.” You say sternly, before walking away to grab your keys.
“Trust me, it won’t.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes when your back turns.
You aggressively shove the keys in Jeongguk’s hand, Taehyung still having a conversation with So-ah throwing funny glances, but neither you nor Jeongguk notice, too busy staring each other down.
“Great.”
“Great!” Jeongguk responds more aggressively, saying a calm goodbye to Taehyung who excitedly waves to So-ah.
And then he’s out of there faster than lighting.
“Jesus, what crawled up your asses?” Taehyung asks, scoffing in disbelief.
“Nothing. Now come help me with the outdoor tables.”
He doesn’t ask any further, seeing you really don’t want to talk about it at this moment.
Jeongguk has already started to cook when you ring the doorbell. He opens, greeting you with the expression he left you with at work.
You return the same energy, not speaking to him as you remove your coat.
You’re about to walk into your bedroom to avoid Jeongguk when So-ah catches your attention in the living room, rolling around on her own and chewing on a toy. She’s too cute to ignore, so you decide to join her, sitting beside her as you squish her cheeks in a playful manner.
“Look at you, you’ve grown so much.”
You can’t believe you’ve been a witness to So-ah’s growth. She’s already able to grab onto things, rolling around and rocking back and forth which is a sign she’ll be able to crawl soon.
As you continue to play with her, letting her explore and sing as she babbles all kinds of nonsense, Jeongguk turns to watch the scene.
You’ve always been careful with So-ah, grasping her as your own and caring a lot for her. He’s noticed how So-ah barely cries anymore, being more calm in your presence. He could get used to this, watching you play with his daughter as he cooks for all three of you. He’s at peace, comfortable with everything in front of him and—
The realization hits Jeongguk.
He doesn’t hate you.
You don’t remember the exact moment you realized you didn’t hate Jeongguk. It just… happened.
One day you were in the kitchen and he walked past you, minding his own business and you didn’t have any urge to throw a remark. No, you felt at ease, letting your eyes admire him rather than watch him out of spite.
Panic seeped through you when you looked at the overall situation.
You don’t hate Jeongguk, you’ve thought about fucking h—shit. What does this mean? Do you… do you like him?
That’s crazy, there’s no way you possibly like Jeongguk or even starting too, which is how you find yourself agreeing to go on yet another date with Han-bin.
Last time hadn’t turned out that bad. The company was nice, you felt comfortable and yet something just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the gross experiences Han-bin wasn’t so afraid to share with you, or maybe… because he isn’t a certain someone.
No.
You’re going on that date.
The moment you leave the apartment, Jeongguk is taking his afternoon nap with So-ah so you don’t bother notifying him where you’re going. There’s a certain ache in your heart the closer you are to the location picked out by Han-bin.
Once again, it’s too fancy for your liking but Han-bin makes the environment comfortable with the company of his wild stories. They’re less gross this time and you find yourself laughing at a few of them.
Time flies rather quickly with Han-bin’s company.
If this weren’t a date, you’d be more at ease because Han-bin is a kind person. But dating him might be a stretch for yourself, seeing your mind keeps tracing back to your roommate who probably still hates your guts.
“Hey, can I be honest with you?” Han-bin throws you off guard with his question, but you nod regardless.
“I’ve had a great time hanging out with you but,” Han-bin looks at you with a genuine and soft smile, “I don’t really think there’s that spark you know?”
“Spark?”
Sure, you’ve dated a few people in the past but no one threw the word spark in the conversation.
You’ve always found it to be a cliché, like every romantic comedy who makes the spark obvious from the beginning. The spark that messes with the main character and their love interest, them tumbling against it until they get in a fight or have to share the same bed, which results in them sharing a passionate kiss, and one of them magically proclaims the love they’ve always had for that person.
That surely doesn’t exist in real life.
“You know, the spark where you know that this person is much more to you. Someone who isn’t just a friend.” Han-bin says, his tone laced with hopefulness.
It’s then you realize that Han-bin is a romantic, a person who believes in finding that special someone.
“Yeah. I’m sure you’ll find that Han-bin. You’re a great guy.”
“Wait, you’re not angry?”
It’s cute how scared he is to offend you.
“No, no of course not. I see where you’re coming from.”
Han-bin’s shoulders loosen at your words, feeling more at ease since he’s decided to throw it in the conversation.
Before you depart your ways, you both come to an agreement of keeping in touch as friends.
Arriving late at the apartment, you move quietly by the entrance.
As you’re reaching your bedroom, Jeongguk catches you off guard.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
Jeongguk shakes his head. “You’re all good.’’ He doesn’t deny it and you feel a tinge of guilt, seeing the time is past midnight once again.
You’re about to enter your bedroom door with a simple goodnight when Jeongguk catches you off guard with a question.
“Hey, where were you?” Jeongguk is leaning against the wall, arms crossed which only showcase more of his prominent chest and his sleeve sneaking out of his loose t-shirt.
“On a date.” You respond coldly, letting go of the handle.
Jeongguk hums, mumbling something along the lines of, "Figured.’’
It throws you off, in a not so cute way.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
It’s almost as if he spoke in a tone for you to hear on purpose, and you’re falling into his trap.
He shrugs lightly. "Nothing.’’
He’s about to turn around, wearing a smug smile when you continue, setting yourself up for whatever he’s trying to do.
“Clearly it was something.”
“Not really.” His unbothered attitude sets you off like a grenade, and you’ve finally lost your cool with Jeon Jeongguk.
“You know what? You drive me fucking nuts!” You don’t bother to care how much you’ve raised your voice. “You’re always pissing me off for no fucking reason!” Your face feels hot, the anger spilling out of you.
Jeongguk scoffs, unfolding his arms and moving closer to you.
“I pissed you off because you started this! With your fucking morning smoothie.” He isn’t helping with the noise, raising his voice as much as you.
“That was one time. Do you need me to quote every time you’ve managed to throw me off?!” Your veins are straining against your neck, giving everything you have into your shouting.
“Go ahead!”
“You took the rest of the milk. You spoiled the movie I was currently watching. You threw remarks whenever I did the slightest thing, and now? Now you’re commenting on my date!”
Jeongguk rolls his eyes at your comment, not bothering to answer you.
Yet you continue, because you’re fueling on the inside.
“You have no rights, when you were fucking someone else!”
You’ve given the signal that you were somehow affected by it, and Jeongguk quickly catches it.
“You sound jealous.”
“I’m not.” You cross your arms, determined to not let him think otherwise.
“Just admit it!”
Your faces are mere inches apart, both panting at a rapid pace. The whole room is heated and you feel yourself sweat underneath your shirt from all the shouting.
“Fuck you.”
It’s barely a whisper.
Neither of you move. Eyes are wandering on each other’s faces and that’s when you notice Jeongguk’s gaze dropping down to your lips.
You’re seeing red, although your body feels heated as you move closer, Jeongguk’s breath melting into yours.
Jeongguk studies your gaze before he moves closer, lips about to brush against yours.
As you’re about to lean in yourself, So-ah starts crying next door, snapping the both of you out of your trance.
“I– I better…” Jeongguk starts.
“Y-yeah, go ahead.” You stutter, moving further away and when Jeongguk leaves the hallway, you breathe out.
What the actual fuck.
The following days you avoid Jeongguk like the plague. You’ve never been more confused and irritated before. And yet, you can’t stop thinking about it. How close his face was, how his lips were about to seek yours until So-ah started to cry.
Decisions need to be made. You can’t continue on like this. You need to talk to Jeongguk, without screaming at him and wanting to rip his face off.
As you’re laying under the covers, your thoughts are spiraling around you. You’re contemplating if you should ask him to talk now because your mind won’t let you rest if you don’t.
Fuck it.
You get up in a hurry, walking in a straight line directly to Jeongguk’s room. After a few minutes of just staring Jeongguk’s door down, your body gives in, knocking on his door calmly.
When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see you.
“Hey.”
“Hi, can we talk? No fighting, just talk.”
Jeongguk nods, grabbing a hoodie by his desk.
Jeongguk doesn’t want to wake up So-ah, so you sit outside, with a cup of tea. It was your idea. Somehow tea always managed to calm down your nerves, and if you wanted to withhold your promise to not fight, you needed to drink some of it along the way.
“What did you wanna talk about?” He sounds nervous, and your mind re-directs you back to when the both of you were about to kiss in the heat of the moment.
Instead of bringing that onto the table, you want to ask Jeongguk some things that have never left your mind since you moved in.
“It’s more of a question.” You make it clear and Jeongguk turns his head, nodding for you to continue.
“What happened? Why is it only you and So-ah?”
Jeongguk lets your question sink in. He’s uncertain if he wants to talk about it, or rather with you. It has somehow been easier for him to distance himself, push you away as much as he could, but that isn’t enough.
You’re still here, sitting next to him as you admire the stars while awaiting his answer.
The silence overflows, the wind curving itself as a comfort blanket around you both as you admire the small lights peaking out in the city.
Jeongguk has always been scared of your curious gaze, yet now, it makes sense for him to tell you everything, let his shield down and give you everything that’s needed for you to understand him completely.
It’s what is needed for you to stop fighting and stepping on each other for no reason.
“Her name was Seul-ki.”
You turn, surprised he’s answering your question but you stay quiet, letting Jeongguk speak.
“She was always selfish. I should’ve known better.” Jeongguk trails his finger against the mug, images of her flooding his mind.
He looks up, meeting your eyes and you smile softly at him. The smile brings an unwanted comfort, but it helps Jeongguk to go through with answering your question fully.
“So-ah was around one month old when Seul-ki got a huge opportunity for her career. She didn’t hesitate to take the chance. But with So-ah, it made it difficult for her to go through with it, so she wanted to give So-ah up for adoption and I just—” Jeongguk takes a deep breath, slightly beginning to tremble.
“I couldn’t. I couldn’t let her do it.” Jeongguk’s hand trembles against the mug, keeping his emotions locked in, even though they’re close to breaking out.
“So, she left us.”
“That must’ve been really hard for you.” You’re trying your best not to hold him for comfort, knowing he isn’t exactly fond of you. But something aches in you when you see the tremble he’s currently carrying and how his voice has turned broken.
“Yeah.” He’s in doubt of what to say. But something in him continues, letting his inner thoughts win him over. Every frustration, pain and heartbreaking moments he’s felt since Seul-ki left.
“Sometimes I wonder if I have made the right choice. In the beginning So-ah would cry constantly, she’d be distressed and I couldn’t help because I’m not her mother. Sometimes you just need both of your parents and she—she hasn’t…”
“Jeongguk.”
Your warm hand lands on his, catching him off guard.
“You’re an amazing dad. So-ah doesn’t need anyone else. You’re all she needs.” Your voice is soothing, melting him softly. He believes every word, trusting you much more than he had anticipated, and with the hopeful eyes you’re giving him, he knows he’ll be okay.
So-ah and him will be okay, without Seul-ki.
“Thank you.” Jeongguk smiles, the first genuine smile he’s given you since you moved in.
You stay in place, letting the silence sink in between you as the cold wind flows.
The starry night is beautiful, alive even. Sparkling and twinkling above you, reminding you of the beauty behind this earth. As you admire the details, Jeongguk looks at you, his heart healing the longer he does and he never wants to let go of this moment.
Everything becomes easier.
You and Jeongguk don’t fight anymore, instead you talk and grow closer as time passes.
You’re still looking for a new apartment, even though the tension has eased down.
A plan is a plan.
Whenever you bring up the apartment search into a conversation between Jeongguk and you, his demeanor changes quickly and he immediately shuts himself off. Here you were, thinking he’d be happy that you’re withholding your deal, not irritated.
Instead of letting it get to you, you continue to hang out with Ash and Lucca.
“So, Han-bin was a bad idea.” Ash repeats as you’ve told her how the two dates went.
“I already called it the moment you recommended that idea. Like it was the best plan you’ve ever had.” Lucca intervenes, crossing their arms. Ash rolls her eyes at her partner, too embarrassed that they might’ve been right.
“But, Ash was right. Han-bin is a sweet guy.” You say to hopefully cheer up your friend who’s about to mop in a corner. “We even decided to stay friends.”
With that, Ash excitedly cheers, and it’s probably because she’s a firm believer in friends to lovers and that it’s the most realistic trope there is out there, meaning she thinks in two three months you’ll finally have a spark with Han-bin.
“How’s the apartment search going?” Lucca directs the conversation somewhere else, mostly to cool down Ash who’s probably planning a Pinterest wedding board for you and Han-bin in the future.
“It’s going, I think I found a place.”
The supermarket isn’t as crowded as Jeongguk anticipated when he came to the conclusion at the last minute that groceries were needed.
So-ah is clutched tightly onto him, due to the baby sling that Jeongguk had mastered the older So-ah got. With her head squished under his chin, Jeongguk walks freely, collecting the products at a slow pace.
“Jeongguk?” His eyes avert to the sound, catching Taehyung waving at him.
As Taehyung moves closer, Jeongguk places down the item to greet him properly.
“Hi, So-ah.”
Jeongguk turns so Taehyung can get a better look at her, her eyes turning wide when she sees him.
“She likes you.” Jeongguk notices, and Taehyung squishes her cheek carefully.
“The feeling is mutual.” He cracks a smile. “How’ve you been? Last time I saw you, you and Y/N were about to bite each other’s faces off.”
The tone indicates he’s joking, although still curious as to how the relationship stands between the two.
“It’s… It’s better.”
It actually is, and Jeongguk’s lips curl into a smile with the memory of your conversation.
“That’s great to hear. She’s been super stressed with finding an apartment.”
The information throws Jeongguk off guard. Are you that desperate to leave? Right after he opened up to you?
Taehyung quickly catches how Jeongguk’s eyes turn downward, his jaw clenching. He’s uncertain if he should point it out, or leave it as it is.
Thankfully, he gets saved by a call.
“Hey, sorry my brother’s calling me. I’ll see you around?” Jeongguk nods, and Taehyung softly says goodbye to So-ah before leaving with his phone by the ear.
The uncomfortable pit never leaves Jeongguk’s stomach after his run-in with Taehyung. He knows that there isn’t much time left, and you had made him the promise to leave the moment it hits six months but now? Now Jeongguk isn’t so sure if he even wants you to leave.
The last few weeks are spent on apartment hunting. You’re barely home, too busy with open houses after work and on the weekends. It’s an easy distraction from your repressed feelings towards Jeongguk, and it’s exactly what you need. Sooner or later you’ll leave your roommates and start over on your own.
Jeongguk has an urge to tell you how he feels, how angry he is that you’re leaving but you keep missing each other.
Whenever he passes by your room, he’s close to doing it but then you’re in a hurry to reach the next open house.
If he hadn’t felt anything for you, he’d be extremely grateful that you’re doing all of this. You actually kept your promise and made yourself trustworthy.
But, the clock is ticking and Jeongguk is running out of time. He needs to do something, fast.
The weekend rolls around, and Jimin comes to pick up So-ah for the night.
“I owe you big time. Thank you.” He hands Jimin an overnight bag, with everything he needs to take care of So-ah.
“Don’t mess this up Jeongguk.” He gives a warning and Jeongguk’s palms start to sweat.
“I won’t.” Jimin leaves quickly after, leaving Jeongguk alone with his thoughts.
Work runs smoothly, Taehyung and you having fun with the children throughout the day but as soon as the golden sunset comes to view, you’re excited to go home.
Home.
Soon that home will turn into a different place and it makes your heart drop by the thought. You’ll miss Jeongguk, with his crazy and annoying remarks. You’ll miss So-ah, her galaxy eyes and her curiosity.
But nothing lasts forever.
The apartment feels empty when you walk in.
You don’t hear So-ah or Jeongguk’s Overwatch that he always forgets to turn off.
When you move to the living room, Jeongguk is sitting on the couch, his leg bouncing at a quick pace.
“Jeongguk?” His head snaps up.
“Y/N, hi.” He gets up, moving closer to you.
“Are you okay?”
He hasn’t stopped rubbing his palm on his neck, a nervous habit you’ve quickly caught onto while living with Jeongguk.
“I’m fine. I need to say something.” His voice is stern and you quickly step back, nodding.
“Okay.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
Your heart stops at his words.
“What? Why?”
Jeongguk steps closer, his breathing uneven as he studies your face. “B-because…”
The nervous stuttering doesn’t stop and Jeongguk closes his eyes for a moment.
“Because I–”
Jeongguk doesn’t continue his sentence, pulling you closer by the waist before he lets his lips glide above yours. His lips feel soft, and your breath hitches subtly right as he presses them down to yours.
The kiss is short, Jeongguk pulling away just before you have a chance to act upon it yourself.
“That’s why.” Jeongguk doesn’t let his arm fall from your waist, still holding onto you tight.
You don’t respond, instead your hand moves upwards, resting it by his cheek. Jeongguk gulps by your action, leaning into your hand for more comfort and you smile softly at him.
“I won’t leave.” You confirm and Jeongguk’s body loosens, melting against yours as he reconnects your lips in yet another kiss.
You clutch yourself to him, as your lips move in sync, giving each other every comfort needed.
Neither of you move away, letting the kiss grow heated. When Jeongguk slips his tongue past your lips, you’re almost drowning in his touch. He’s careful, teasing you along the way while giving you a taste of himself. You’re just about to pull him further in when he stops, leaning his forehead against yours.
“Do you want to—”
“Stop? No.” You hover your lips above his, before you whisper. “Please, don’t stop.”
You’ve waited too long for this, and now that you finally have Jeongguk you don’t ever want this moment to end.
Jeongguk’s demeanor changes completely, his softness somehow disappearing and an ache begins to grow between your legs on what’s to come.
He turns you both around, pushing you down on the sofa. Jeongguk continues to kiss you, his hand wandering on your breasts, before it drags further down, grabbing your thigh softly.
You offer to touch him everywhere, starting by his back. Your hands slip through his t-shirt to roam on the naked skin. It feels delicate against your palm the further you drag it upwards to his nape.
Jeongguk’s breathing changes due to your touch, his lips moving further down, reaching your neck. His tongue traces patterns, letting you feel the wet sensation while your hold on Jeongguk tightens.
It doesn’t exactly click for you that Jeongguk is hovering above you, giving you his time with his tongue on your neck. And it only excites you more that it’s finally happening.
“Jeongguk.” You murmur under your breath, bucking your hips forward in hopes of grazing yourself against his bulge.
He groans against your neck at your neediness, giving you a small bite which makes you gasp.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this.” He says softly, his words trail gently on your skin, and you smile from the confirmation he just gave you.
When he reaches your waistband, you grab ahold of his cheek.
“What are you doing?” It’s not that you don’t want to, of course you do. You haven’t thought about anything else for the past three months of living with Jeongguk but you’re nervous.
“Let me make you feel good. Can I?”
You gulp, nodding nervously, letting him have his way with you.
Jeongguk doesn’t even struggle when he takes off your pants, removing them perfectly and it almost makes you crack up at how ideal it was.
Your grin is exchanged with a frown of pleasure when Jeongguk traces his fingers on the fabric of your thong. He’s making you work for it and frankly, you don’t mind.
The pad of his fingers press down on your clit, making your breath hitch by the sensation. You feel everything yet nothing and it makes your body buck into his hand. Jeongguk smirks by the sudden action, continuing to tease you with his fingers until you’ll plead.
The touching continues, a few presses once in a while making you hiss. He hasn’t dared to move beneath the fabric and your patience is running on a thin thread.
Without thinking further, you grab ahold of his wrist. You’re done with his teasing. It’s unfair that he’s here, taking his time with you when you’ve both been longing for this exact moment.
“Jeon Jeongguk.” He grins at the use of his full name and you want to throw a fit.
“I’ll stop, I promise.” He pecks your lips, and considering you trust him, you let go of his wrist.
Some things truly never change.
He keeps his word, removing the fabric instead of teasing you further. The cool air hits your core, making you shudder before Jeongguk can continue. His palm keeps itself rested on your thigh, while his tattooed hand comes in contact with your slit.
The first few strokes are slow, collecting some of your arousal and spreading it all over. Jeongguk’s mouth is agape, eyes heavy as he watches your exposed heat and his fingers decorating it with slow movements.
“Fuck, baby.” Jeongguk breathes out, stunned to have you like this.
The pet name causes your cheeks to heat up, flustered by such.
No warnings, and Jeongguk inserts both fingers slowly, stretching you with ease. The feeling causes you to moan, as you’re too entranced by the pleasure.
There’s something about the way Jeongguk works with his fingers that almost sends you into orbit. The way he gently curls them, making them pet on your g-spot whenever he manages to get his fingers all the way inside. The way his thumb traces circles on your clit, increasing the feelings evoking.
When you begin to feel overwhelmed, you grab onto Jeongguk’s forearm, pressing down. Jeongguk is even more determined to make you come, maintaining the same pace.
You feel the familiar pit in your stomach, forming as time passes. Although, Jeongguk has a lot more on his sleeve than just touching you.
Being too focused on the thrill of the situation, you don’t notice Jeongguk crouching down. It’s first when he replaces his thumb with his tongue that you’re aware of what he’s doing. Your legs are shaking beside him, feeling yourself get much closer and Jeongguk wants nothing more than to taste you.
To his luck, your body shudders followed by a high pitched moan as you finish. Jeongguk pecks your clit, before moving upwards to face you. Your breathing is uneven, your whole body warm and you’re smiling softly at him.
When Jeongguk pecks your lips, you take him by surprise, grabbing onto his cock through the material. He groans against your lips, astonished by your bold move. You don’t stop, pumping him while your tongues consume one another.
Jeongguk is already hard. He’s been ever since you laid beneath him, spreading your legs out for him. Even though Jeongguk is enjoying your touch, he’s impatient.
“Stay here.” Before you can even question anything, Jeongguk runs out directly to his room. He quickly returns, with a condom in hand. When he’s about to lay down, you push both of his shoulders, making him land in an upright position.
You straddle him, wrapping both arms around his neck. “Come on big boy, show me what you got.” Maybe you’re saying this because you know Jeongguk will absolutely fall into your trap and amaze you.
“I’ll show you.” His gaze is intense, yet he’s already fiddling with his pants, desperate to get them off. You aren’t exactly helping, grinding down on the material of his pants, which gets him distracted.
“Y/N, please.” You’re suppressing a smile, commanding either way and lifting your hips to help him get his pants off quicker. You aren’t exactly better yourself, wanting nothing more than for Jeongguk to fuck you.
Jeongguk is quick on his feet, rolling the condom with ease before gently pressing into you. Your knees sink further down, inviting more of him in and the unfamiliar stretch feels pleasant. When your knees have sunk fully down, you take a moment to adapt.
“Shit.” Jeongguk moans, mind spinning at how nicely you wrap around him.
You start bucking your hips, a hiss leaving your mouth as you ride him tenderly.
“Fucking hell,” Jeongguk curses, his eyes now roaming your body and how smoothly you move above him. He takes the chance of grabbing your ass tightly, making you jerk your hips out of the sudden control Jeongguk is regaining.
His eyes avert downwards, watching how your bodies dissolve and how he disappears inside of you.
The movement of your hips slow down, your body still processing your orgasm from earlier which had somewhat made you exhausted.
Jeongguk helps you, grabbing onto your hips, leaving you to sit still while he bucks his hips at a much faster pace. Your moans are clogged, too stunned to process the feeling of his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly.
“Fuck—” You breathe out, clutching yourself onto Jeongguk who isn’t slowing down. He’s surely showing you everything he’s got and you’re already close.
With no warning, you tense above him, your orgasm washing over you, filling your body with warmth. Jeongguk follows soon after, giving one last thrust as he moans against your neck.
The both of you stay put, trying to regulate your breathing. “Was that good enough for you?” Jeongguk asks between pants and you slap him lightly on the shoulder, because he knows it was better than good enough.
“Oh my god! Jeongguk hurry!” You scream excitedly, still holding onto So-ah who’s standing on two feet, ready to take her first step.
“Don’t let her walk!” Jeongguk screams from the bathroom, finishing up his shower after his workout from earlier. You roll your eyes, holding tightly onto So-ah who’s trying to move out of your grasp to walk.
Jeongguk runs out quickly not long after, in only a towel because moments like these are rare and there’s no way he’s about to miss out on his daughter walking for the first time.
“Okay, come here So-ah.” Jeongguk kneels, spreading his arms open for his daughter and she screams softly, wobbling towards her dad but managing two steps in before Jeongguk has to sweep her in.
You clap excitedly at So-ah having taken her first step and you catch Jeongguk’s eyes watering.
“So-ah, you did it.” Jeongguk kisses her on the cheek.
Moments like these are only the beginning for the three of you, and you’re thrilled.
summary: 5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.
warnings: oral (f!recieving), fingering, 69ing, unprotected sex, reader on top, praise, mingyu has boyfriend dick<3, sub-ish!mingyu, also power bottom!mingyu 👍, multiple sex scenes, marijuana smoking/shotgunning, marijuana-induced horniness lol, one bed trope, forced proximity, miscommunication, HEAVY mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).
word count: 19.9k
note: first things first, APOLOGIESSSSS for this taking so long. I've had a lot going on (which I know just about everyone says) and I was lowkey struggling to write this, even tho I was so amped for it. nevertheless, I'm so glad I was able to focus and finish it, because I care so much for these two and I desperately wanted to share their story with you 💓 per usual, please expect angst with your smut, and if you cry, I will not judge you and honestly would love to hear it lol. enjoy friends! (taglist posted at the bottom.)
in rotation: bmf, sza / mona lisa, mxmtoon / gorgeous, taylor swift / moonstruck, enhypen / finally // beautiful stranger, halsey
Your mom had told you that the friends you make in your first year of college stay with you for life, but you didn’t expect that when you met Vernon. He had been shy, refusing to speak to anyone in your orientation group, but knowing glances turned into sitting next to each other, which then had you both whispering jokes back and forth, until finally, he told you his name. Hansol Chwe to be exact, but he insisted on “just Vernon.” By the second semester of freshman year, you both had become inseparable. He was your best friend, been with you through some of the toughest moments of your adult life, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.
Vernon’s friendship survived through many of your boyfriends, and you knew he’d outlast many more. He experienced some of the worst ones – a.k.a. the men who refused to believe you two were just friends – and also the boring ones – the one guy who used you to get to him. But none of them had pissed him off more than your most current breakup: the man who was three years your senior and cheated on you with a 22-year-old. You assumed by age 27, you’d know how to pick ‘em, but that was clearly wrong.
Now you were left to your own devices with five weddings to attend this year. In retrospect, maybe there was a few you could’ve skipped, but you hated saying no in situations like this. You had agreed to go to all of them with your now ex-boyfriend in mind, placing a 2 on the invite’s attending line. Per usual, Vernon had stepped up and begrudgingly offered himself to be your date.
So why were you now meeting up with Kim Mingyu to discuss the dates of said five weddings?
You first met Mingyu when Vernon joined a fraternity in sophomore year to make more friends. “I can’t just have you. I need to have at least some friends that are dudes,” he said, which made you reply, “That’s the toxic masculinity talking.” And boy, had Mingyu been the epitome of that statement. Him and Vernon had connected instantly, sharing the same major and an affinity for art girls. You had never really gotten along with him like Vernon had hoped, but he was … attractive, to say the least.
Okay, maybe you had a crush on him. You had eyes.
But it was college and you both were on the cusp of 20. It was so hard to confess feelings back then, especially to someone like Kim Mingyu. Who you didn’t particularly enjoy talking to in the first place. However … he was probably one of the hottest men you’d ever seen; made in a lab for every young girl’s fantasy. Sometimes you couldn’t help but just stare at him, admiring his perfect teeth or the way his honey-gold skin shined in the afternoon sunlight. (You thanked your lucky stars that Vernon joined the college football team alongside Mingyu, just so you could secretly ogle him during practice.)
Suffice to say, you did eventually hook up. In the most cliche way possible, you had both gotten a little too tipsy at the first frat party of senior year and wound up in Mingyu’s dorm, locking out his roommate for the entire night. It almost felt weird, realizing your attraction had been reciprocated, but he hardly said a word to you come morning. In fact, he never mentioned it again, period, choosing to avoid you except in group settings with Vernon. You weren’t a fool; you were quick to realize it meant nothing to him, just another notch on his bedpost.
Mingyu was every girl’s dream, but Mingyu was also uncommitted.
And he was walking towards you right now.
You looked up from your phone after stalking – looking through Mingyu’s Instagram. You never followed him, never checked in on him after graduation, but you knew how close he still was with Vernon. He even posted a picture with him recently. You rolled your eyes. Despite his long hair, you recognized Mingyu instantly as he went up to the barista and ordered a coffee. You studied him for a moment, noticing that there was a curl to his hair and the way those dark stands hung around his eyes. His skin was as perfect as ever and – goddamn, did he get bigger? He was wearing a jacket over his t-shirt and you could still tell how big his muscles were.
When he finally looked over his shoulder and your eyes connected, his face remained unchanged, if not a little awkward. He walked up to you, rubbing at the back of his neck, and said your name as if it were a question. “Yeah. Hi, Mingyu,” you replied with a wave. “It’s been a while.”
“Five years since graduation,” he added, pulling out the chair across from you and plopping down. “So you stopped putting those blonde highlights in your hair?”
Your eye twitched. Before you could spit out a response, a cute, dark-haired barista came over and set a fresh mug of coffee in front of him, completely ignoring that your own was practically empty. Mingyu flashed her a smile, showing off his pretty canines as she walked away. You frowned.
Vernon had told you last night that Mingyu wasn’t the same guy you knew in college, but you begged to differ.
Turning back to you, he took a sip from his mug and asked, “Why did you want to meet up again?”
“Because my best friend is an asshole and you lost a bet.”
“Oh, yeah. That.” He nodded.
You almost didn’t believe Vernon when he told you. You knew he didn’t exactly want to be your date to all these weddings and probably felt like he had to, but he did offer so you didn’t think much of it. Until he told you last week that he put all his guest invites on the line while playing a drinking game with Mingyu, which the latter lost. So now Kim Mingyu, your college one-night-stand that was scared of commitment, was committing to being your date to several weddings this year.
Kill me now, you thought.
“I thought drinking games and making silly bets like this didn’t happen once your frontal lobe formed,” you said, and his dark eyes flickered up to yours.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he cleared his throat and set the mug down again. “Men never really grow up.”
You crossed your arms over your chest and sat back in your chair. “Apparently,” you muttered under your breath. “How do you have the time to actually commit to this? Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?”
“One,” he held up a single finger, “I take bets very seriously and I’m not a sore loser. It’s only removing five weekends out of the year for me. No biggie. And two,” he lifted another finger, “No.”
You raised a brow. “Well, I guess that answers all my questions.”
Mingyu stared at you for a moment, running those two fingers over his bottom lip. You suddenly had a flashback to that night, remembering his hands all over you, remembering his fingers plunging inside and curling –
Not the time.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend? Why put down two people on these RSVPs you sent back and then force just anybody to be your date?” He fought the urge to smile, trying to dig a little deeper into you. You weren’t falling for it this time. “I love the guy, but I know Vernon wasn’t your first choice to accompany you.”
“My ex and I broke up,” you replied. “Not much to it.”
Intrigued, he sipped his coffee again. “Why?”
“It’s none of your business, Mingyu.”
“Well, as your new date –”
“Drop it,” you said, voice taking on a new tone. “I’m serious.”
Mingyu raised his hand in surrender, and you shook off your anger. This was supposed to be a friendly, quick conversation, but it was seemingly moving off the rails. A sigh escaped your mouth before you asked, “So you said this is only taking five weekends out of the year. What do you do with your time? Are you working?”
“I thought I answered all your questions.”
You narrowed your eyes.
He chuckled softly, exposing those canines once again. His smile was so … ugh, you needed to stop getting distracted. “I work at a restaurant four days a week as a cook, and then teach flag football at a rec facility the rest of the time. I’ve been trying to save up to open my own restaurant for years, but I got the time to be a makeshift wedding date.”
You knew Mingyu had always loved to cook – you remembered when he’d been the resident chef at the fraternity – but to hear he was still passionate almost … melted you a little. Almost. You were dedicated to not being too swayed by Mingyu’s pretty words. This was a deal and that was the end of it.
“I see,” you nodded, uncrossing your arms to play with the handle of your still empty mug. “I’ve been working at the same marketing agency since college. Pays the bills, you know?”
Mingyu gave you a knowing look before running a hand through the long strands. “Always so committed.”
Your lips pursed. “One of us has to be.”
“Speaking of commitment,” he said without missing a beat, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “What are the dates for those weddings again?”
Save the Date for the wedding of Choi Seungcheol and Holland Levine: February 28th
It was a rainy Sunday in February. Your coworker, Choi Seungcheol, was getting married today at a local venue on the outskirts. His girlfriend, Holland – otherwise known as, Hinge Holland, when he met her on the dating app 3 years ago – was a little kooky and asked for them to be eloped that morning. Seungcheol was too in love to say no; he’d do anything she asked. They were married early morning, and lucky for you and Mingyu, all you had to attend was a reception. It was a nice way to test the waters of this deal before anything got too crazy.
Mingyu had picked you up in his truck, and together struggled to help lift you inside with your dress and heels on. As he drove away from the city and into a more rural area, he commented, “Your coworker must be real whipped to agree to a reception here.”
“What are you talking about?” You looked through your phone for the address Seungcheol had sent you months ago. “I thought the reception was at some small venue.”
Mingyu said your name, and you glanced over, seeing the smile on his face. “It’s a VFW owned by someone in his girlfriend’s family.”
You realized just how right he was when he pulled up to a spot in a VFW parking lot, seeing a crowd of Holland’s family pour into the post. You knew what the inside of a VFW looked like; you had your sweet 16 at one. But going to a wedding reception at one was a whole different story. Were the walls so old that they’d crumble once the DJ dared to play Dancing Queen?
Rain pounded from the sky, making the cold February wind even more chilly. Mingyu rounded the truck and opened your door, making sure to hold an umbrella above your head as you slid out of the seat. He looked … okay, he looked extremely handsome in his suit, tailored exactly to his body. You were in an old, off-the-shoulder black dress with mesh sleeves that were doing nothing in this wet cold. This wedding had crept up on you, and before you knew it, you remembered you didn’t have any new dresses to wear. And while it looked nice, the dress just barely zipped and you had to keep pulling up the neckline. Clearly, you had grown a bit since the last time you worn this. Probably in college.
Mingyu was staring at you now, letting his eyes wander down, and you were yanking at the neckline again. He didn’t deserve to see more of your cleavage. He whispered, “You look …”
“Just come on,” you cut him off, tugging him in the direction of the VFW. He struggled to keep up for a moment, rushing to hold the umbrella above both of you.
As soon as you both walked inside, you realized just how dressed up you were compared to the place. The building looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1990s. There was, at least, a huge buffet-style food setup in the corner and a man so old that he probably had one foot in the grave behind the bar. A sign in front of him said, OPEN BAR, written in thick sharpie. Various family members were congregating at tables, while the DJ – who looked like a Pitbull impersonator – was setting up at the head of the room.
Seungcheol ran over the second he saw you meandering through tables. He had the biggest smile on his face, tugging his new wife over to introduce her to you before wiggling his eyebrows at you when he noticed Mingyu on your arm. Even Holland couldn’t help but ogle him. Seungcheol was one of your closest coworkers, so it wasn’t weird when he asked, “Who’s the beefcake?”
Mingyu was too busy dealing with Holland’s questions to hear you reply, “Don’t ask. I’ve cycled through many options before I was forced to bring him.”
“I’m sure it was quite difficult for you,” he snorted, before carefully pulling his wife’s hand off of Mingyu’s and introducing himself. Not long after, he was ushering her away to start making speeches.
You and Mingyu found your seat quickly, and luckily enough, you were sat with most of your coworkers. Every single one was looking at Mingyu like he was a piece of meat, but he didn’t seem to notice as he had a friendly conversation with each of them. You struggled to not roll your eyes. How was he perfect with everyone? Maybe your dislike of him was irrational and unwarranted, maybe he did change. But … ugh, could he fuck up for once?
Your coworker, Minghao, sat to your left, watching Mingyu converse with the young assistant – Amelia, right? – who was very clearly batting her eyes at him. Leaning towards you, Minghao whispered, “I thought you were bringing Vernon?”
Minghao was one of the few people you told about your breakup, as well as Vernon and of course, your girlfriends. It wasn’t like you to go around everywhere and post on social media about your breakup; it wasn’t anyone’s business. But Minghao gave great advice, and he was one of the first people that helped you get over the heartbreak. He wasn’t just a coworker. He became a trusted friend.
Turning your head, you said, “Would you believe me if I told you that he lost a bet?”
“Considering who you ended up with,” he chuckled, “I’d say it’s a win in your favor.”
“He’s not that great.”
“Then you might want to pull Amelia off of him before she starts sucking his face.”
The reception ended at an early hour thankfully. Most of the elderly guests were falling asleep anyway. Mingyu was a class act, per usual, trying to get you up and out of your seat to dance with him, but the last thing you wanted to do was dance to Toxic by Britney Spears in front of your boss at the marketing agency. Instead, he took the lead to asking Seungcheol’s mom to dance, and made Amelia’s day when he asked her to join. Minghao only continued to laugh when you rejected each of Mingyu’s advances.
Once 10 PM rolled around and you both were exiting the doors of the aging VFW, you noticed the rain hadn’t let up. In fact, it seemed to have gotten even worst. You had to run to Mingyu’s truck with him holding the umbrella above both of you and almost trip over your dress as you hopped up inside the cab. Assuming it would be fine to drive, just a few minutes in the rain left you both realizing that it might be extremely unsafe to drive back to the city in this weather. You really couldn’t argue with Mingyu when he suggested you stay the night at a motel right down the road.
The woman behind the front desk at the motel was chewing so loud that you thought the wad of bubblegum between her teeth might be larger than your palm. She informed you both that the only rooms available were ones with a single queen-sized bed. As much as you desperately wanted two, you’d take what you could get. She started grabbing both of your informations to check in when a loud bolt of lightning cracked, followed by a crash of thunder. You instantly gripped Mingyu’s arm, and he paused signing his name to look down at you.
“Are you scared of thunder?” He asked playfully.
Realizing how tight you were holding on, you quickly removed your hand. “No, I’m … it’s fine.”
His bicep felt so much harder than anticipated. All muscle.
Stop that.
The front desk attendant gave you an actual metal key to open your room, the number dangling from a kitschy pendant. This was the kind of motel where you needed to venture outside to get to your room, and with your arms locked together, Mingyu led you both through the pouring rain to the right building. He shoved the key in the lock, immediately opening the door and allowing you to walk inside first.
The room was smaller than expected. The heat was hardly circulating and you were still shivering. A queen-sized bed was situated in front of an old RCA TV, decorated with a comforter that looked strangely similar to the one from the 80s that your mom had given you when you first moved out. The room smelled like bleach and all you could hear was the rain on the roof. Noticing you shiver, Mingyu walked over to the thermostat and adjusted the heat.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said, hugging your arms around yourself.
Mingyu pointed to the large window by the door. “I can’t drive in that. It takes an hour to get back to the city and I can hardly see the road.”
“Okay, well –”
Lightning struck again, painting the window white, and you jumped. Mingyu shook his head and walked over, closing the shades over the glass. He looked down at you, and you were acutely aware that he was the kind of person who could say everything just with his eyes. “Better?” He asked, a smile playing at his pink lips.
He was so close that you could smell his cologne and – god dammit, you were such a sucker for men that smelled good. He smelled like violets mixed with smokey sandalwood, spicy and musky. Whatever you were going to quip back died on your tongue, leaving you to reply, “I can’t sleep in my dress. I have nothing to wear to bed.”
Walking over to the tiny closet, Mingyu spotted a robe hanging up next to the vintage ironing board. He placed it in your arms and remarked, “Take a shower and put this on.”
“Are you saying I smell?”
He laughed. “No, you’re shivering and it’ll help warm you up.”
You nodded, heading off to the bathroom and shutting the door. As you slipped off your dress and let it pool onto the tile, you realized how antagonizing you were being for no reason. Mingyu had been nothing but nice to you, but you were suspecting him to switch-up at any moment. Maybe Vernon was right, or maybe you just needed to take a chill pill.
Mingyu was helping you out, after all.
After taking the warmest shower of your life and probably using all of the hot water in the motel, you walked out into the room with your robe tied firmly around your waist. The cotton smelled like mothballs and you hardly left an inch of skin showing. Granted you weren’t naked underneath, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your underwear. Again. After five years.
He was wearing only a tank top and boxers while setting up a makeshift bed on the floor. You struggled to maintain focus with him looking … well, like that, and eventually spoke up, “What are you doing?”
He hardly jumped at hearing your voice. “I figured it would just be easier if I slept on the floor. Trust me, I’ve slept in far worse places.”
“Mingyu, you don’t have to do that,” you sighed, pulling back the covers and tossing the mismatching throw pillows on the floor.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I know, but it’s just –”
Thunder clashed outside, sounding like pots and pans clanging together, rattling your bones.
Your eyes connected with Mingyu’s, and you pointed to the empty side of the bed. “Sleep in this bed right now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You both agreed – more like, you told Mingyu and he listened – to place a wall of pillows between you two, leaving you on the edges of the bed. You curled up into yourself, your spine facing him, as Mingyu laid on his back and pinched the bridge of his nose. The rain was so loud. The thunder was deafening. You considered plugging your fingers in your ears as you slept.
Mingyu was shifting on the small sliver of mattress he had, wishing internally that he brought a joint or two with him. This bed was so uncomfortable that he probably wouldn’t sleep. But hopefully, you would. Although that was seeming highly unlikely from the way your back tensed with every boom of thunder.
He watched you from the corner of his eye, and eventually, you did stop shaking. Soft snores filled the room, replacing the sound of the rain. And then Mingyu felt himself relax, swiftly falling asleep with his arm thrown above his head.
Despite the pillow wall you built, you woke up with your head on his chest.
Mingyu had wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked that day, but he couldn’t find the courage to finish his sentence.
Save the Date for the wedding of Lee Chan and Adrianna Olson: April 4th
Tapping your freshly manicured nails on your bare arm, you leaned against the passenger side door of your car and huffed. You uncrossed your arms, beginning to pace outside Mingyu’s apartment building. The ceremony today started in two hours and you were about ninety minutes from the venue. Not to mention, there was only a matter of time before one of his neighbors showed up, forcibly removing you from the parking spot in front of the building you definitely did not live in. What the hell was Mingyu doing anyway? He said he’d be down ten minutes ago.
You tugged off your heels, realizing they’d be a bitch to drive in, and pulled your sneakers from the back seat. Your floral, strapless sundress blew in the Spring breeze. Your curls – that looked like they could’ve been done by a toddler – whisked off your bare shoulders as you stepped into your favorite Nikes.
“Sorry.”
Popping your head up, you halted while shoving the back door closed. You blinked, assuming your eyes were deceiving you, but there he was, sprinting down the front steps of his building with freshly chopped hair.
Mingyu was quickly walking over to shove his duffle in your backseat, pulling at his tie, when you leaned in and placed your hand on his head. Yep, that was his real hair. Those long locks that had reached his chin were gone, replaced by a hairstyle that was similar to how he looked in college.
“I know we’re running late,” he apologized, letting your fingers sink into the strands for a moment, “but do you have to –”
“This is not about that.” You removed your hand, leveling a look at him. “You cut your hair.”
Mingyu raised a brow. “It was getting long.”
You paused, blinking at him. “Why didn’t you warn me of your new look?”
“I didn’t think I had to?” He shrugged, genuinely confused as to why you were questioning him. “My hair had gotten even longer since February, so I just thought I’d freshen up for you –”
You completely missed his words – for you, he’d freshened up for you – because you were already interrupting him. “Well, it’s just – it might look weird in pictures because my hair is up and your hair is so short. And I’m already going to have so many people looking at us wondering why my ex, who’s name I put on the invite, isn’t here. And I just want to eliminate as much attention as possible. And, well – and –”
Mingyu placed both hands on your shoulders. His palms were large, practically burning into your exposed skin. “Are you overthinking?”
“No, I …”
When your voice trailed off, Mingyu hesitated for a moment longer and then slid his hands off. “Vernon told me that you dated the groom. Chan, right?”
Of-fucking-course, Vernon told him. Your lips pursed before you replied, “We were friends before that, and we only dated for like a couple months in college. I introduced him to the woman he’s marrying.”
“Then why are you so nervous?”
“I think I have a lot of reasons to be nervous these days.” You continued to stare at him, waiting for him to come up with another quippy remark, but it seemed he contested and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit. The same tailored suit he wore to the wedding in February, a few loose threads at the seams. “Let’s get going. We’ll be in the car for a while,” you said, rounding your car and hopping inside the driver’s seat.
As Mingyu dealt with finding room for his duffle in your trunk, you took this small second to text Vernon.
You: your friend is infuriating
You: also I’m never going to forgive you for telling him that I dated chan
Vernon: you’ll get over it lol
Vernon: is that the only reason why he’s infuriating?
You: HAIRCUT
Vernon: oh I probably should’ve told you about that when I saw him last week
Vernon: sorry :/
You closed your texts when Mingyu hopped in the passenger seat, turning on your music to drown out your thoughts. The drive was long and you were lucky that you got to the venue with ten minutes to spare. You parked the car in a haste, running to your back seat and quickly tugging your heels back on. You chucked your sneakers onto the car floor, almost hitting Mingyu in the face when he went to grab his phone from the same area. Locking your car, you grabbed his arm and yanked, both of you running towards the venue attached to a pretty hotel. Mingyu, even with his long legs, was struggling to keep up. He was also slightly impressed that you could run so fast in heels, and that was definitely the only reason why he was staring at your legs. He wasn’t admiring how long they looked when the wind lifted your skirt and he got a flash of your calf.
Even from your seat in the back of the ceremony, you could see Chan’s face light up as Adrianna was escorted down the aisle. She was wearing a vintage wedding dress, the veil sheer enough to see how beautiful she was underneath, and Chan was eager enough to lift it as soon as they said, “I do.” Adrianna looked like she hadn’t aged a day since school, and you could probably say the same for Chan. But he did manage to finally remove the earrings he got six years ago, which made you giggle to yourself.
Mingyu pretended not to notice.
Most of the people at the wedding were old friends from undergrad, even a few Mingyu knew in passing. Every time you were approached, you prepared yourself for the same question: “Where is He Who Will Not Be Named?” Or, for those that actually knew Mingyu: “Since when did you know Gyu?” You weren’t sure how much longer you could fake a smile and laugh, pretend that your heart still wasn’t sore from the breakup, rehash the same words over and over again. It was tiring; you were tired.
Same explanation. Same heartbreak. You wouldn’t be surprised if the whole planet knew of your breakup by now. You didn’t announce it anywhere, besides telling your family and close friends. It was natural for people to be curious; you had been with your ex for a couple years, enough for your family to assume that he’d propose. But then he cheated, and you found out, and you were left in pieces, tied to Kim Mingyu as your date for a full year of weddings.
You just didn’t want to keep on doing this, explaining yourself ten times over, realizing that everyone was looking at you with interest. Maybe a second glass of champagne would be a good distraction …
“Wanna dance?”
You looked up from the rim of your empty glass. Mingyu had knocked you out of your daze, laying out a hand for you to take. The reception was lively with family and friends mingling on the dance floor, but Mingyu had still noticed you alone at the table, lost in your thoughts. Had he always been this attentive, or was he just prone to watching you?
Ignoring your internal monologue, you took his hand, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. Just as Mingyu was about to place his hand on your waist, the song changed, switching to a more upbeat track you used to blast in college. You immediately started laughing at all the older folks trying to follow the beat, and then found Chan with his wife, shimmying on the dance floor. Mingyu pinched the bridge of his nose, but found himself beaming when he finally saw the smile grace your features. He didn’t let go of your hand, let you twirl him to the song that took you back to the musty basement of a frat party.
Chan, at some point, had managed to dance over in your direction, bumping into you with a big grin. “I knew all the alumni here would love this,” he shouted over the music. “Do you remember when you puked outside a window once at some party and you said that it was this song that induced it?”
You were surprised when Mingyu said, “Yes,” at the same time as you. Both you and Chan glanced at him, eyebrows raised, until he added, “That was at one of my parties. I cleaned your vomit off the windowsill!”
The four of you erupted in laughter. Even Adrianna remembered that party, considering that was the night you drunkenly introduced her to Chan. She eventually pulled you away from Mingyu, leading you towards her group of bridesmaids so you all could dance together. But your eyes couldn’t help but find Mingyu’s across the floor, and then he was looking at you, and – god dammit, staring at him felt like a crime you’d consider going to jail for.
Everyone was looking at him, but he was looking at you.
Actually, Mingyu couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. Not once.
He stared at you as if it was just you two, as if you were stripped bare before him, just for his eyes to see. You could tell from the way he bit his lip while smiling. He looked at you as if you were naked.
Soon enough, you were slipping through the crowd and by his side once again. He was now leaning against the wall by the open bar, nursing a scotch. The party was winding down; all the older family members had left, leaving Chan and Adrianna – plus a few other young couples – swaying to a classic Ed Sheeran song. It wouldn’t be long until they ended the night with Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley. The time war nearing 11 PM.
Slinking beside him, he offered the glass to you and you took a sip, wincing at the burn. You stuck out your tongue. “How can you drink that so smoothly?”
“Years of practice,” he replied, and then flicked your nose in a way that shouldn’t make you blush. But you definitely did.
You blinked up at him, admiring how pretty he was in the faint, yellow light. Actually, he was pretty in every light, but you liked to find any excuse to admire him. Even if you denied it.
“Wanna get out of here?” You asked then, digging your nails into your palms. So afraid of rejection after all these years, even though he agreed to be here. “I think the reception is going to end soon anyway.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” He set his half empty glass on a random table and straightened his back before adding, “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
God, you needed to get it together. Those words were the bare minimum, but when he said them in that slightly muffled voice, it made your nails pinch the inside of your hands harder.
You both stood on opposite sides of the elevator, dragging up, up, up to your room on the seventeenth floor. Your eyes connected. A smile played at his lips. An unspoken tension brewing between the two of you. A feeling you didn’t want to be there in the first place, but something you couldn’t simply ignore.
This couldn’t be happening. Not today. Not tonight. Not ever again.
He opened the door for you, allowing you to slip inside and grab your bag. While he rifled through his duffle, you brought your bag into the bathroom and leaned against the sink. You allowed yourself a moment to just breathe. Maybe if you kept exhaling like this, you would release all the tension from your body. You knew how silly it sounded, but desperate times called for desperate measures. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, turning your face from side to side. Was it the makeup that made him look at you that way sometimes? Perhaps he still had a fondness for lipgloss, like he did back in the day.
When you finally stopped studying your appearance, you wiped off your makeup and tugged on a pair of loose pajamas. Wearing these would be so much more comfortable – and less awkward – than the robe you wore after the last wedding. You still had nightmares about that. Carefully tiptoeing out of the bathroom, you expected to find Mingyu already in one of the two full size beds, scrolling through his phone and ignoring the noise you naturally made. But he was on the deck just outside your room, smoke billowing from his mouth.
You stood near the unoccupied bed, balancing on the balls of your feet, as you debated your options. A smart person would go right to sleep, leave him to his business. You chewed on your bottom lip nervously.
Despite the slight warmth to the air, you threw on a hoodie, scared of the possibility of your nipples showing through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. You slid open the door and immediately closed it, preventing any smoke from getting into the room. He didn’t turn; he knew exactly who was behind him. His back muscles flexed underneath his suit jacket, the joint dangling between his lips as he prayed for his lighter to work again.
“You probably shouldn’t be smoking in this suit,” you said, saddling up beside him.
He chuckled, finally taking a long drag. “I promise to get it dry cleaned before our next adventure.”
Before our next adventure. You bit the inside of your cheek.
Your eyes didn’t leave the joint now sitting between two of his fingers. (Jeez, were they always that big?) He let more smoke filter from his lips and into the open air, clouding up the starry night sky. Without even looking at you, he asked, “Why are you staring?” His words hung in the silence for a moment. “Have you ever smoked before?”
You shrugged. “Only once or twice with Vernon. Probably as freshmen.”
“You want me to show you how?”
Blinking at him, all you could do was dumbly nod. Mingyu laughed under his breath, fighting with his lighter again, before eventually holding the flame to the end. He then cautiously passed the joint over to you, allowing the filter to brush your lips. “Take it in your mouth,” he instructed, “now inhale.”
When you did as he asked, you must’ve inhaled far too deeply, or just didn’t exhale at the right time. Because then you were coughing, doubling over as you tried to catch your breath. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, concern etched in his tone, and patted your back as you hacked up what felt like your left lung. His voice was soft, soothing, but you could hardly hear it through the ringing in your ears.
“Yeah,” you sighed, voice hoarse, “I’m definitely out of practice.”
As you stood up, his hand stayed on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing patterns. Your breath stilled as you looked up at him. Playing with the joint between his lips, he said, “Let me show you an easier way.”
“Okay,” you agreed, before your conscious could stop you.
You watched as he took a long pull from the joint, sucking it all in until you could see his eyes get a little pinker, and then moved closer to you. Instinctively, your eyes closed and your lips parted, welcoming the scent of him. His lips only lightly grazed yours as he exhaled the smoke into your mouth, letting it engulf your very being, and you felt yourself start to relax. He craned back, grinning down at you, and it took everything within you to not ask for another hit right then.
In the moonlight, you could see why you fell hard for Mingyu. He had only gotten more handsome since college. Light, in any form, was so kind to him, but with the stars hanging above his head … it allowed his dark hair to shine, casting a slightly blueish tone to his warm features. You could see the twinkling stars reflecting in his eyes, especially when he leaned back in, expelling more smoke into your mouth.
This felt too intimate. This felt like fucking.
Once you both were so high you could do nothing but laugh, Mingyu stubbed out the joint and you stumbled back into the room. You both were finally going to have a good sleep at one of these, especially since there were two beds. Rolling into your bed, you immediately burrowed under the covers as Mingyu took off his suit in the bathroom.
The last thing you expected was to feel him plop down in your bed. He was wearing so little that it made your thighs press together, or maybe that was just the weed talking. He was disoriented, laying halfway off the edge of your bed, staring at you as if you were the Mona Lisa. You huffed, “Mingyuuu. You need to get in your own bed.”
“Do you really want that though?”
His words made your eyes immediately snap open. A grin was tugging at his mouth again, his teeth sinking into that plush bottom lip. Oh, so also wanted … Oh.
You tried to sound cool and nonchalant, “Considering this is a full size bed, yeah.”
Even in the darkness, even with his back to the moonlight streaming through the glass door – his presence was making you nervous. His eyes weren’t leaving yours. You felt your hand inch over, your pinky curling around his.
“If I can be so honest with you,” he whispered, licking at the corners of his lips, “you are so beautiful that I want to kill any guy that has done you wrong.”
You exhaled, “Mingyu …”
He leaned in, smiling like he knew he caught you in his trap. “Yes?”
You were pretty sure that you knew Kim Mingyu by now. You knew that this would be just another night that meant nothing to him. No matter how much he “changed” in Vernon’s eyes, it was very clear to you that he remained uncommitted. But fuck it, your heart was still burning from the breakup, stinging from the memory of people uttering your ex’s name tonight. It was only going to be a kiss. Just something to soothe the pain.
He was so much closer now, invading your space, his hand completely eclipsing yours. He smelled like marijuana and lingering cologne. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, but you didn’t. You let him kiss you, and god, it would be so much easier to dislike Mingyu if he didn’t kiss so well.
It wasn’t long before his tongue was pushing into your mouth, his large body looming over yours as he pressed you into the mattress a little more. And you’re desperate for it; you couldn’t stop. This was supposed to be simple – just a kiss – but you could feel yourself falling under his spell, feel how his palms burned against your skin as they dragged down your torso. He explored your mouth like it was the first time, parting your legs to make room for himself on top of you. When his lips left yours, you almost let out a whine, but he helped take off your hoodie before reattaching his mouth to your neck. Those large hands snake under your shirt – up, up, and up – until he was cupping your breasts and you can feel how hard he is against your thigh.
Mingyu looked up at you as he kissed down your torso, his spit soaking through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you were still wearing. He lifted one of your legs, adjusting it so your thigh could rest comfortably on his shoulder and – shit, you knew where this was going. Reaching the waistband of your panties, he begged, “Let me go down on you.”
You mulled over his words. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“No,” he grinned against your skin, meeting your eyes from between your legs. “But that’s a tomorrow problem. Please?” His head tilted. “Do I have to beg? I’m willing.”
You bit your tongue, egging him on a little as he nipped at the inside of your thigh. He bucked his hips once, them twice, trying to get the smallest bit of friction on his cock that was currently throbbing in his boxers. He grunted softly against your skin.
“And if I say, ‘No?’” You asked with a raised brow.
He lifted his head and pouted his lips. After all these years, he still managed the perfect puppy dog eyes that could make just about anyone weak. “Don’t be mean,” he pleaded, and you couldn’t help but giggle.
“You like when I’m mean,” you quipped, giving him permission by helping him shimmy your panties off. He adjusted your legs again, presenting you like a meal.
“I do,” he chuckled, his breath ghosting over your pretty, pink folds. “Especially, when you act like you didn’t want me here in the first place.”
Before you can rebuttal, he’s pressing his face between your thighs, dragging his tongue up your slit to collect the wetness that gathered there. Just the small amount of attention had you keening, your hips jumping for more of him, and Mingyu was happy enough to oblige. His tongue flicked at your clit as he slid one single finger inside of you, testing your limits. Those puppy dog eyes lifted from between your thighs, wanting to see you crumble, knowing that it was him who made you like this. You sighed out his name, your hand coming down to tangle in his hair. And god, if Mingyu didn’t love that … he’d be a dead man. He groaned when he felt you tug at the strands, beginning to swirl his tongue in a circle around your puffy clit.
You couldn’t even prepare yourself when he shoved another finger inside, pumping them in and out at an unreasonably fast pace. But you were bucking into him, tears pricking at your eyes as you whimpered for him. It was too much but almost too little at the same time. You could practically feel him smile as he devoured you. The bed rattled against the wall when he ground his erection against the frame, so needy and aching. His plump lips suckled on your clit, your slick smearing over his face, but he didn’t want to miss a drop of you. He needed more of you, so he started curling three fingers inside of you, teasing that sweet spot.
This wasn’t your first rodeo with Mingyu. He knew what you could take.
“Mingyu,” you whined, and he glanced up at you again with the most fucked-out eyes imaginable. And still, he didn’t stop. “You’re gonna … I’m gonna cum so fast.”
He moaned into you, then begged, “Please. Need to taste you.”
He was so determined, so desperate to feel you shake and moan and cry until he was completely spent on the taste of you. And it wasn’t long before he got his wish: as he shoved those three fingers into you, grazing your g-spot while lapping at you like you were his last meal on death row. You unraveled on his tongue, muffling your cries for the rest of the people sleeping on your floor. Biting into your hand, you had physically restrain your body from shaking as your orgasm rocked through you, but Mingyu held you down with a gentle hand on your stomach. He was staring at you again and you were staring at him and fuck, his half-closed eyes made him look like he was drunk on you. You could feel him smirking into your pussy as he collected every last drop of you, knowing that he did a good job. He sighed with relief when he could finally taste you again and again and again.
Once your body settled, you felt him start to tug at your shirt and kiss up your stomach. The thought of now having him inside you made your hands clench with excitement, but dear god, he just knocked the wind out of you and you weren’t sure how you could last. You were spent, tired, probably could just fall asleep right now.
You weren’t feeling his lips on your skin anymore, so you opened your eyes. The moonlight gave you just enough to see that, despite the raging boner he probably had, Mingyu was now snoring softly with his head resting on your hips. Brows raised, you almost couldn’t believe that this was the moment he decided to fall asleep, but you couldn’t deny that you had been on the verge of doing the same.
Untangling yourself from him, you quickly cleaned yourself up and wiped his face clean with a washcloth. You sighed, using all the brute strength you had to haul him up on what was supposed to be your bed, and wrapped the covers around him. You admired him for a moment, your hand coming up to smooth back his dark hair. Somehow, this felt even more intimate than you cumming in his mouth. So you quickly moved away and slipped under the sheets of the other bed, using his snores as white noise.
The next morning, neither of you spoke of what happened.
Mingyu had wanted to tell you that he had a crush on you the moment Vernon introduced you two all those years ago, even when you disliked him. And slowly but surely, he was starting to realize it never truly went away.
Save the Date for the wedding of Joshua Hong and Jordan Lo: June 20th
Two months passed and the spring air turned sweltering. It was on days like this when you rolled the windows down and wasted gas just to get an overpriced iced coffee that you reminisced. You were taken back to a time when you waited by the curb as Vernon appeared from football practice, and even though he was sweaty, you still always agreed to drive him back to his dorm on the other side of campus. You would watch him say goodbye to his teammates and – shit, the light would catch, and suddenly you were looking at Mingyu wipe the sweat off his face while laughing with the quarterback and –
Now you were thinking about Mingyu again.
You had been thinking about him since April.
All of this felt so silly, like stupid games young 20-somethings played. You knew it wasn’t good for you in engage in – well, anything with Mingyu. He had always been perfectly uncommitted with women, and he was clearly obsessed with his work, posting his new recipes or pictures of him and his flag football team on his Instagram stories. You could handle this. You could be an adult and have a functional acquaintanceship with someone you found attractive.
So you kept your distance. On the off chance that Mingyu was free and asked if you wanted to get together (which was a shock in itself), you declined. Even if you wanted to. Even if you desperately wondered what would come of it. The next wedding wasn’t until the end of June and you were already biting you lip at the thought of seeing him in a suit again.
The only person you could finally blabber to about this was Minghao, and in typical fashion, he laughed. Not that you expected anything less.
“You’re overthinking the entire situation,” he said over drinks. “It’s completely normal for you to have a little fun, especially while healing from a breakup. That’s what being single is all about, my friend.”
He was right. Of course, he was right. But what if Mingyu rejected you yet again, like he did in college? You wanted to talk to Vernon about this. He always gave you the best advice with this stuff, but this was his friend. The last thing you wanted was to make his friendship with Mingyu weird.
You attempted to ignore him. You redownloaded some dating apps as a distraction. You deleted them just as fast.
On the morning of June 20th, your cousin, Jordan, was marrying her longtime boyfriend, Joshua Hong. You had only met Josh on a number of occasions, but considering that they had been together for almost twelve years, you trusted him enough to take care of her. You felt lucky to be chosen as a bridesmaid and you’d never make a fuss, but dear god, the dark blue of this dress clashed with just about everything. The color was so dark and the dress was clinging to just about all of you and Mingyu’s tie was the wrong shade of blue –
Damn, did he look handsome though.
Jordan had made you both get to the venue early for a rehearsal dinner, and then once the morning came, you were whisked off to hair and makeup. You had barely said a word to Mingyu, too scared to give him anything besides small talk, but you couldn’t help but compliment the new suit he bought for the last few weddings. “Figured I’d cave and invest in one that wasn’t from Goodwill,” he explained, “for you.”
For you. For you. For you.
Your heels were hurting your feet halfway through the wedding, and despite how hard you were trying to focus on Josh’s vows, you couldn’t help but find Mingyu’s eyes in the crowd. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone else, his stare burning into yours to let you know his intent. You swallowed hard. Would anyone notice if you hid your blush behind the bouquet in your hands? It felt like torture having him look at you like this, as if there wasn’t an extravagant wedding happening around them, as if he wasn’t Kim Mingyu.
It wasn’t until the reception that you could finally get a word in with your cousin, some much needed alone time after what was surely going to be the craziest wedding you went to this year. You both parked yourself near the open bar, ignoring the guests on the dance floor that were screaming for another round of the Cha Cha Slide. Tucking a strand behind your ear, Jordan said, “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me. Jeez, I really didn’t think when I was three and met you a couple weeks after you were born that we’d be here. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You grinned, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” The bartender handed you a new glass of wine and you took a sip. “Besides, these days all I do is work or go to weddings. The life of being a permanent wedding guest, I supposed.”
“Speaking of guests …” Jordan turned her head slightly, ogling Mingyu from where he was standing up and trying to decline your great aunt’s advances to dance. Your cousin giggled. “He isn’t the older guy I thought you’d bring.”
“Circumstances change.” You shrugged, and she gave you a look. “I’d rather not get into it.”
Jordan’s brow raised. “You guys are having sex though, right?”
You almost choked while taking another sip of your wine. “Absolutely not.”
“You sure?”
“Well, I –” You sighed, and then decided to suck down the rest of the glass in one go. Jordan whistled. “We did at one point. Very long time ago. But he’s Vernon’s friend and … it’s a long story.”
“Sounds like it,” she snorted, eyes flickering around the reception until they landed somewhere behind you. “Well, if you’re not having sex with him, my friend just might tonight.”
Your expression muddled, until she pointed over your shoulder. Turning around, you found Jordan’s Maid of Honor chatting up Mingyu near the stairs that lead to the restrooms. Her hand was inching up his sleeve and he was blushing at what you could only assume was a compliment coming from her lips. He was clearly enjoying the conversation, despite the intimate looks he was giving you earlier.
Classic fucking Kim Mingyu, you thought.
A pang of jealousy surfaced that you couldn’t control. It was probably best for everyone if you walked away and took a breather. After Joshua pulled his wife onto the dance floor, you adjusted the tight silk of your dress and headed for the bathrooms. You walked past them, your perfume wafting past Mingyu’s nostrils, a scent he would know anywhere.
Instead of going inside the bathroom, you decide to stand in the empty hall connected to the venue and brace your back against the cool wall. You sighed, gathering yourself, completely unaware it wasn’t just you here until you heard the squeak of someone else’s shoes.
“I noticed you were empty,” Mingyu muttered as a way of greeting. He was holding two glasses of rosé between his fingers, stepping down the small staircase to get to you.
It was just you two now, and he was handing you the glass while standing so close that you could smell his cologne. Had this dress always felt that tight, or could you just not breathe right now? You watched the way his eyes flickered to your mouth, and it took everything in you not to yank him closer by the tie. Instead, you took a big gulp of rosé.
“You didn’t have to come after me,” you remarked, and then nodded your head in the direction of the Maid of Honor now on the dance floor. “You looked like you were having fun.”
Mingyu simply tilted his head to the side, studying you carefully.
“She’s pretty. Don’t stop on my account, but please be aware that we are sharing a room so you can’t bring anyone back there.”
Mingyu’s lips slowly curved into a grin. “Are you jealous?”
You scoffed, “No. I’m just … being realistic.”
Taking your half empty glass from your hand, he set them both down on a side table right near the women’s restroom. Your mouth opened, but the words died as soon as he placed a hand beside your head on the wall. He was so tall that he towered over you, even in heels, leaning into your space with pretty, half-opened eyes as he stared at your glossy lips.
“Can I be realistic with you?” He didn’t give you a moment to answer. “I cannot stop thinking about our last night together. I know you probably thought it happened because of the weed, but I … these past two months, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. And it’s killing me that I’ve been trying to be normal this whole night when all I’ve wanted to do is drag you away and make you cum again.”
Your breath hitched slightly at his words. He leaned in then, grazing his nose over the side of your face, desperate to be in your orbit. You took your bottom lip between your teeth and tried to control your heart rate, but how was that even possible when Mingyu’s other hand was brushing up and down your side, tangled in the silk.
“Well, that …” You swallowed hard. “That wouldn’t be a good idea considering all my family is here.”
He tsked under his breath. “Obviously, it wouldn’t be, but …” You felt his nose at your jaw, inhaling the scent of your perfume again, the one that made him crazy. And he damn near groaned in your ear.
“Mingyu, you … you –”
“Fuck, how could you think I’m looking at anyone else here when you look this good in your dress?” His voice had taken on that needy tone he always got when he was horny. It almost felt like a reward to be able to hear it again. “I’ve been half-hard this entire reception just from looking at you, remembering the way you tasted …” He muttered another curse.
This was how he always acted. Mingyu could be so desperate and pleading when he wanted to get someone in bed, needy to the point he would do anything just to please you, but god – you couldn’t deny how much you liked it. He was reeling you in. You were like fish to bait.
Slowly, he laced your dominant hand with his and moved it from his belt buckle to his groin. You could barely breathe when you felt him harden under your touch, and then you remembered you were still in a public hallway, where just about anyone could walk by.
Your eyes met his half-lidded ones as he murmured, “Look what you’re doing to me.”
And god help you, because you whimpered at the sound of his voice, slick starting to gather between your thighs.
“Okay, Mingyu, just …” You sighed, composing yourself because you knew he wasn’t going to any time soon. Your hand slipped away from his and he huffed, his forehead falling to rest on your shoulder. “Go to our room and let me make my rounds. I’ll meet you up there.”
He stood up. For a moment, he was almost tempted to drag you into the bathroom and bury his face between your legs, too hungry to let you get away now. But one of your uncles was walking down the hall, and you separated quickly. With a nod, you walked back to the reception and said goodbye to your family that you didn’t get to talk to for too long prior. Jordan gave you a look when you mentioned about going to bed early, and even Josh told you how weird you were being, but your cousin shut him up and sent you a wink.
You exhaled heavily and headed back to hotel on the other side of the venue. Slipping your heels off once you were inside the elevator, you debated if giving into Mingyu this easily was the smart thing to do. Smart? Definitely not. But would it be enjoyable? You didn’t need to answer that question. Mingyu knew what he was doing.
As you unlocked the door to your hotel room, you began to wonder if you were just setting yourself up to be hurt again. He didn’t come back to you like this in college, but what’s stopping him from telling you that he’s “just not that into you” at the next wedding? Or what if he just thought of you as an easy hookup that would get his dick wet every 2 months? Well, you hadn’t done that yet –
Yet. Yet. Yet.
The word repeated in your head like a melody, because when you threw your purse down and saw Mingyu walking out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower and dressed in only a towel around his waist, you realized that you were most definitely getting his dick wet tonight. Whether it was in your mouth or somewhere deeper, you were salivating for it.
He was smiling at you and you were smiling at him and Jesus, he was so goddamn handsome that you couldn’t believe that he was the one desperate for you. Droplets of water trickled down his tan skin and that towel around his waist was just barely holding on. His torso was chiseled and his arms – fuck, his biceps were bigger than you remembered. He was something out of a dream – some horny, fucked-up dream that you only had after masturbating before bed.
He was on you instantly, pushing you against the wall and kissing you hard. Sighing into the kiss, your hands fist into the towel to yank him closer, but it only makes the flimsy fabric fall. You break away for a moment to mutter, “Oh, shit,” but his lips can’t stay away from yours for long. And he’s laughing, like you did exactly what he wanted. You were too hypnotized by the scent of his body wash to care.
Dragging his lips down your neck, he sucked at the spot that he knew made your thighs press together, grinning proudly against your skin when you moaned. His fingers gripped the soft silk of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric up to feel you that much closer. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how much he liked you in this dress – and god, did he like you in this dress – he needed you out of it. Now.
Mingyu unzipped your dress with precision, setting it down on one of the two beds in the room, and both of you were suddenly wishingthere was only one. His hands smoothed down your sides, his breath hot against your mouth. He just wanted to feel you everywhere. He almost didn’t want to step away, afraid you’ll slip through his fingers like sand. When you two had hooked up in college, it was quick and explosive, letting out the tension that had been building for years. There was so much territory for him to cover now, so many ways for him to find out what made you whine and sigh with pleasure. But, if he were being honest, all he wanted right now was for you to –
“Sit on my face,” he begged, caging you into the wall, pressing his hard cock against your stomach. So desperate for just an ounce of friction, so hungry for another taste of you. He could literally start drooling at the thought of it. He was mesmerized by you; he’d do anything you asked just to have your pussy on his tongue again.
But you seemed to be debating your options, biting you lip again, and he wished that didn’t turn him on even more. You were just so pretty, and the way your face scrunched as you decided on something was a sight he couldn’t help but think about when he touched himself, even all those years ago. It was just you. You.
Eventually, your face relaxed, and you replied, “Well, you don’t have to beg me.”
Mingyu’s lips pulled into a smile, and he laughed while pulling you down onto the nearest bed. Despite his request, you continued to straddle his torso and kiss him for just a little while longer. He was needy, moaning into your mouth whenever his cock bumped against your ass, but all you wanted to feel his lips on yours, tangle your tongue with his, even if it was just for another minute.
You forgot Mingyu was stronger than you, though. It wasn’t much longer before he was yanking your body up and turning you around so you knelt just above his face. He inhaled the scent of your pussy and almost breathed a sigh of relief, but instead muttered, “Such a tease sometimes.”
Now that you were hovering above him, you were suddenly self conscious about how excited you were and if your arousal was seeping onto his face. You couldn’t even see if he was thrilled or not, since he had turned you to face away from him, but the way his cock jumped in front of your eyes told you enough. His hands gripped your thighs tight. “I don’t want to crush you,” you said nervously.
“You could suffocate me and I wouldn’t have a problem with it."
You chewed on your bottom lip. His tone was firm, probably the most serious you’d ever heard from him. But you were embarrassed and this was crazy and you still so wet. With flushed cheeks, you asked, “Mingyu, are you –”
“Yes,” he answered before pulling you down onto his face.
He wasn’t teasing you tonight. He was devouring you without even letting you catch your breath. His tongue swiping at your clit before he sucked on it – hard. So hard that you let you a sound that was a mixture of a yelp and a moan. Gripping you roughly, he spread you wider, drinking more of you in. Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his face, which made him groan into your pussy. The vibration in his voice spread throughout your entire body, goosebumps lining your flesh. “Mingyuuu,” you whined, begging for more, and you could practically feel him smirk as he flicked at your swollen clit.
Leaning forward, you turned your head up and noticed again just how hard he was. His cock had always been perfect: the perfect size, dark pink at the tip, veins etched into the shaft. Precum beaded at the head, sliding down every so slowly, as he throbbed and ached and – god, his hips were almost thrusting into the air now. You didn’t doubt he could get off for hours on this, but that didn’t mean he needed to be unsatisfied.
Besides, you wanted something to do with your mouth anyway.
Mingyu whimpered as you shifted slightly to reach his cock. Your body stretched, your mouth at the perfect angle as you flicked the head with your tongue. He pulled you back towards his mouth, shoving his tongue inside your tight hole and making you gasp at the same time you licked a stripe up his shaft. His tongue worked you open while you swirled your own along the tip, and then finally took him into your mouth.
The grunt he released should’ve caused an earthquake.
You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, choking when he bucked into your mouth. You could hardly breathe, taking every opportunity to inhale through your nose, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. God forbid, you have a hobby like wanting Kim Mingyu’s cock in your mouth. He took the liberty of grinding you against his face with his own hands, wrapping his lips around your clit again, eager to taste your climax. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last if you kept sucking on his tip like that. He groaned each time, feeling your tongue circle his head before going back down, taking as much as you could, as if you were rewarding him. And he just couldn’t help but whine along with you.
Your lips pulled off him to kitten lick the veins along the sides of his shaft, and you breathily asked, “Are you close?”
His only response was a moan straight into your pussy.
You nodded, even if he couldn’t see it, before your mouth opened like second nature. You spit on his cock and stuffed him down your throat once again. Head moving faster, you were slobbering on him like a dog in heat, trying not to gag and failing. Your free hand snaked up to cup one of his balls, and the sound he released was deafening. His tongue flicked and sucked at your clit like he had nothing left to live for, hungry for every last drop of your essence.
But then you were cumming, and he was too not long after.
You cried, choking on his cock as you came all over his face. White blurred in your vision, and you were a mess of sweat and spit and so much cum. He exploded in your mouth a moment later, hot seed running down your throat, and you consumed all of it. Neither of you wanted to miss out on the taste of each other. It was filthy, intoxicating, how much you liked this. How much you could suck him off over and over again, and not get tired of him.
You didn’t know it at the time, but Mingyu would say the same about you. If not worse.
He could spend all day between your thighs and never want to leave.
When you both finally angled off each other, spent and exhausted, your breathing was heavy and off by two seconds. Mingyu was glancing over at you before you could even process, a smile playing at his swollen lips. He brushed away a strand of hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.
“Mingyu,” you finally said, “has anyone ever told you that you have boyfriend dick?”
Mingyu had wanted to tell you how much he’d been dreaming of that moment, how much you had haunted his dreams and left him waking up so hard that he felt he was going through puberty again. Sometimes he dreamed of how good it would feel when he finally slipped into you, inch by inch. You’d feel like home.
Save the Date for the wedding of Lee Seokmin and Quinn Song: July 31st
You couldn’t go a day without talking to Mingyu. Whether it be through text or over the phone, you were joking with him, telling him about your day, and vice versa. Just a month prior, you had tried keeping your distance, but now … you simply couldn’t help yourself. It was like there was a voice inside your head telling you to contact him, to send him a funny video you saw that day, to tell him about the show you were currently watching. And on nights when you had too much to drink, that voice made you text him that you missed him. He always said he missed you too.
Mingyu: I’m watching that show you recommended
Mingyu: kinda wish you were watching it with me
Mingyu: but I’m still content here and I can see why you like it so much
You: right?? I knew you’d like it!
You couldn’t help but giggle at your phone when his texts came through. And you answered them immediately, like you always did.
Mingyu: what are you doing right now?
You: wouldn’t you like to know
Neither of you made the effort to go on an actual date. It was all just flirty texts with a TikTok mixed in every once in a while. Promises about going back to that coffee shop someday, but never planning the day. To be honest, this was one of those moments where you were glad Mingyu was so uncommitted. If you started going on dates that didn’t include a vow exchange in between, it would be so easy to fall for him again, and then be let down when he eventually didn’t want to see you after wedding season.
Mingyu: I mean that’s why I asked
You: I’m hanging out with
A pillow was suddenly thrown at your head. “Ow!” You shouted, head shooting up from your phone to glare at Vernon sitting on the other side of the couch. “What the hell was that for?”
“Anakin is literally burning alive and all you can do is look at your phone!” Vernon scoffed, turning Revenge of the Sith back on. You set your phone down on your lap as he muttered, “Kinda wish I never won that bet.”
Vernon, obviously, was becoming increasingly annoyed that you and Mingyu had rekindled … whatever this was. Sometimes you wondered if you were talking to Mingyu more than your best friend, but given the way Vernon was acting, that was probably the case. You probably shouldn’t even be texting Mingyu while hanging out with Vernon. Bad friend move; happens to the best of us.
You apologized to Vernon in the best way possible: you bought him fried chicken from his favorite spot.
As summer came along, so did Seokmin and Quinn’s wedding at the end of the month, an invitation that was barely hanging on by an old Britney Spears magnet on your fridge. Quinn Song had been your first ever roommate out of college. You both had met on a Facebook group to find roommates in the area and quickly hit it off. She had been your roommate up until last year actually, when her now-fiancé Lee Seokmin asked her to move in with him. It was at that point that you finally decided to live alone, besides the few days out of the week that Vernon crashed at your apartment.
The wedding was being held on a pretty island in the northeast, nestled on the expansive grounds of a bed and breakfast in the area. The spot felt warm and lived in, the exact kind of place you imagined Quinn would get married at.
Meeting Mingyu at the airport had been awkward, but at the very least, you two were sitting in different rows of the plane. Maybe it shouldn’t have been as cringe-worthy as it was, given the fact that you two had been talking nonstop, but it was the memory that the last time you did see each other in person, you were sitting on his face and his cock was so far down your throat –
Mingyu had found your eyes a couple rows behind him on the plane. Even he was blushing now, as if he could read your thoughts.
You had rented a car once you reached your destination and threw him the keys, letting him drive the convertible down the coast while the summer breeze whipped through your hair. You tried not to notice the way his hand twitched on the gear shift, like he was itching to place his palm on your thigh, to ground himself to your presence. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Especially when all you could do was stare out the window with a big smile on your face.
Unfortunately, you had to book a room at a small hotel near the bed and breakfast since all the rooms were used for the wedding party. The hotel was quaint, but definitely old and smelled like the Febreze scent your mom used to love when you were a kid. Your room was tinier than the pictures implied, but it was on the first floor and had a screen door that opened to a pretty view of the ocean. You didn’t have much time to enjoy it though, considering that the ceremony was in a few hours and the reception would probably carry on until way past midnight.
You decided to rewear the floral sundress that made a previous appearance at Chan and Adrianna’s wedding. It wasn’t like anyone here was at that event, and honestly, you didn’t care. Throwing your hair up into a perfectly messy updo, you curled a few pieces and took your time with your diligent makeup routine. Mingyu was in his suit before you could even blink, biding his time while you got ready by watching past game recordings of the flag football team he taught and trying to identify key moves they missed out on. As you finished up and clumsily slipped on your shoes, the perfume you sprayed seemed to beckon him like a siren song, and suddenly, he was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, meeting your eyes in the mirror.
Your brows shot up. “Done with your flag football research?”
“You’re beautiful,” he replied.
You turned, unable to stop your lips from pulling into a soft smile. His expression was so warm, cheeks tinged slightly pink either from embarrassment or a nasty sunburn. He was beautiful. In ways you couldn’t even comprehend.
Holding out your necklace to him, you asked, “Can you help me put this on?”
He nodded, plucking the dainty chain from your palm. You moved back to the mirror as he struggled to open the clasp with his thick fingers, but he got it eventually. Placing the thin, gold chain around your neck, you watched the small, star-shaped pendant sit so delicately under your collarbones. He fixed the clasp on your neck, his fingers brushing the top of your spine, and you watched him lean forward in the mirror.
His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, breath hot and making the hairs on your neck stand up. “I meant it, by the way,” he whispered, and then placed the softest of kisses behind your ear.
Your breath hitched, and you were unable to form a single coherent thought. For the first time in a while, he was catching you by surprise. He was moving back, and you noticed him smirk in the mirror, knowing exactly how he was affecting you. That annoying asshole –
“Ready to head out?” He asked, grabbing his wallet from the desk.
You huffed and tugged the strap of your purse onto your shoulder. “Of course.”
The grounds of the bed and breakfast were bigger than you assumed, enough to fit an extremely large tent and hardwood floor for all the guests to congregate. The ceremony was held near the shoreline of the ocean, and it was so, unapologetically Quinn to have a few seashell pins in her veil as she walked towards her husband. You had known Seokmin as long as Quinn had been your roommate, but you had never seen this kind of smile on his face until now. He completely lit up at the sight of her, and he didn’t waste a second to say, “I do,” once his time came.
As the guests crowded into the tent for the reception, Mingyu seemed to hold onto you like a toddler with it’s parent. His arm was locked around yours, letting you lead him through the crowd, even though he was tall enough to see over the tops of everyone’s heads. His palm was so warm on your wrist, and then his fingers were so easily lacing through yours, and you squeezed because you simply couldn’t help yourself.
You were able to find your table easily, but you didn’t recognize the other people already there. They introduced themselves as Seokmin’s friends, and you remembered seeing one or two of them at a bar. You still couldn’t get a read on these people, and found yourself swiftly growing silent around their shared camaraderie. But Mingyu was suddenly so talkative, catching along with their jokes just as quickly, so you stood and whispered in his ear, “Do you want a drink?”
He leaned back to meet your eyes, and you swore time stopped for a moment. His hand reached down, squeezing your wrist, as he said, “You know what I like.”
Jesus. Fuck. Since whendid he have you this wrapped around his finger?
(Probably since sophomore year of college.)
You nodded, swinging your head in the direction of the bar, and your feet had started to head there when you halted in place. It almost felt like your heels were glued to the floor as you found the face of the last person you expected to be here. The only face that could make all the noise drown out around you.
Your ex.
He still had that same curl that always got in his eyes. He was wearing the same suit he wore to your mother’s engagement party last year. The same watch on his wrist; the same cufflinks. Same. Same. Same. And now, he was meeting your eyes across the room. Bodies formed in clusters under the tent – some hugging, some stumbling into each other – but he was unable to look away.
Until a head popped up in front of him, standing from her chair at the table. Her wedge sandals almost made her taller than him, and her dress looked expensive enough that he probably bought it. You didn’t know her, but you knew of her. Well, at least, you knew what the back of her head looked like, and that was her right there.
You couldn’t forget the night even if you tried. Exhaustion had your shoulders sagging as you unlocked the door to your boyfriend’s apartment. He didn’t typically keep it locked, but you had a key anyway. You remembered how quiet the place was, except for the soft sounds echoing from his bedroom. At first, you thought he was just masturbating, and to be honest, you were too tired to engage in anything tonight. But a voice in your head had urged you to move, to go, go, go towards his room. And you were slowly pushing open the door, only to find your boyfriend fucking your 22-year-old neighbor from behind, yanking on her short hair like a leash. You had been too scared to move, too scared to breathe, but eventually, you had started wailing. His eyes had found yours – exactly like in this moment – and he screamed, slipping away completely as your back slid to the floor. He had tried explaining, tried to yell at the young girl, but everything had drowned away in that moment, and all you could hear was the ringing in your ears –
Your breathing was growing rapid, just like that day at his apartment. Sprinting to the inside of the bed and breakfast, you tried to act normal and say hello to whoever you knew mingling by the bathroom. But something was clearly very wrong. It was evident in your eyes, the way tears were pricking at the sides. You almost thought the universe was pulling a cruel prank on you, but then you remembered that it was Quinn who had introduced you two in the first place, that he had been a friend of a friend.
Climbing up the staircase in the lobby, you plopped yourself down on the middle step and let your face fall into your hands. You began to count your breaths – one, two, three, one, two, three – anything to make you get a semblance of control. But you could feel your brain spinning, and your heart was beating too fast. Was this what it felt like to die? Was your cheating ex going to be the last face you saw before you completely slumped against this staircase? Vernon always said you had a flair for the dramatic. What a fitting way to end.
You felt a weight sink into the plush carpet next to you, and you lifted your head, tears brimming your eyes.
“You do realize that this isn’t your party. You can’t cry if you want to,” Mingyu joked, reaching out and swiping the tear at your lash line. His eyes softened then, looking at you like you were something fragile, like a baby bird. “What’s wrong?” His voice was hardly about a whisper.
You sniffled, dabbing at the corners of your eyes with your knuckles. The last thing you needed was your makeup messed up. “This is so embarrassing. I’m crying over something so …” Your words trailed off, noticing that he was leveling a look at you. You sighed before admitting, “I forgot that the bride, Quinn, might invite my ex because they were friends. Somewhat.”
“Your ex? As in that ex?” His brow shot up, and you nodded. “Did he come alone?”
You looked down at your hands in your lap, and after a moment, you watched his large palm slowly envelope one of yours. The rough pads of his fingers – the hands of a cook – brushed over your knuckles, and his touch was so warm that it could burn.
His voice was soft in your ear as he said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
You chuckled a little, turning to look at him again. “Then we’d be sitting on this staircase forever.”
He smiled at you and stretched out his long legs. “That’s fine with me.”
Your lips pursed, and you found him staring at them for a moment. A sigh escaped, and you glanced down at your laced hands. How perfectly they fit together, how he held you with such a fierce softness. His thumb grazed the scar on your knuckle that you got the first time you fell off your bike. Finally, you answered, “He came here with the girl he cheated on me with.”
Mingyu didn’t speak, but you did hear him do a sharp intake.
“She’s twenty-two. She didn’t – she doesn’t know any better. He’s in his early thirties and he’ll do it again,” you continued, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. “I found them in his apartment after I came home from a late meeting at work. It was … messy. Walking in on them, the fallout, now this … everything about that breakup has felt like one big mess. And now, I have to see him here and be reminded of it all–fucking–over again.”
You didn’t even dare to meet his eyes as the next words tumbled out of your mouth, already feeling your voice start to break again. “It didn’t just hurt because I found them. It hurt because … I never wanted to become my mother. I love her. I really do. But the last thing I ever wanted was to become her. Be in the same situation as her. And yet, there I was, witnessing yet another infidelity that would affect my life for what seems like forever.” You rubbed at your running nose. “I found my father cheating too. It wasn’t exactly the same. I found him kissing my best friend’s mom in my parent’s bedroom one night when my mother stayed at work too late. The sentiment still stands, and history was always bound to repeat itself. Daughters always become their mothers and I always have to bear witness to another man not choosing to stick around –”
Mingyu stopped you by turning your face towards his, one hand cupping your cheek. His thumb skimmed the tears running through your blush. He didn’t say anything; his eyes let you know that he was here. That he was sticking around. Despite everything you thought of him, despite your past – Mingyu was here.
He held you for as long as you needed, gathering you in his arms and cradling your head against his shoulder. He let your tears soak into the fabric of his expensive suit, promising he’d get it dry-cleaned, which made you laugh. Your fingers clutched his lapels and you almost considered not letting go. You would give anything to stay in this bubble, to sit on this staircase in his embrace forever.
“I meant what I said all those months ago,” he said, his voice muffled from his lips at the crown of your head. “I would kill any guy that has done you wrong. Do you want me to kill him?”
You chuckled and raised your head from his shoulder. “What are you gonna kill him with? A butter knife?” You shook your head. “No chef is gonna let you in that kitchen tonight to grab a weapon. You of all people should know that.”
Mingyu grimaced. “This conversation is getting morbid.”
Another laugh bubbled at your lips. “You brought it up!”
“And you’re smiling again,” he said, making your hands hold onto him tighter. “That’s all I could ask for.”
Such simple words could take your breath away, especially when they came from his mouth. You searched his eyes for a moment, your fingers now smoothing out the creases in his lapel. Eventually, you whispered, “I don’t know if I can survive this whole reception. I hate the awkward tension, but I should stay for Quinn.”
“Trust me, I know,” he snickered, and his hand covered over yours as an anchor. “I say we stay at the reception for as long as your comfortable. Then we go to bed early. Whatever works for you.”
Your smile was so kind as you nodded along with his plan. After touching up your makeup, you took his hand and let him lead you back to the reception. Once you saw Quinn in her short, after party dress and looking at Seokmin with stars in her eyes, you instantly felt more at ease. This was her day; you wouldn’t let one person sour it. And Mingyu, clearly, wasn’t going to let your own nerves sour it either. Anytime you locked eyes with your ex, there Mingyu was, distracting you by whispering in your ear how pretty you looked or asking you about your best memories while living with Quinn. There was one moment where you saw your ex heading in your direction, assuming he was finally going to talk to you, and Mingyu stood up to whisk you onto the dance floor. His large arms enveloped you, holding you close, as you swayed to one of your favorite songs. Everything about him felt safe, secure, and he even let you stand on his feet when you told him you had never been that good at dancing. And when you looked at him, you noticed that he was staring at you like how Quinn looked at Seokmin during her speech. Even when you had cried, had let him in, see parts of you that not even Vernon touched … he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.
You stayed at the reception far longer than anticipated. When you told Mingyu that you were too tired to stay any longer, he didn’t question it. He simply grabbed your purse and jacket before taking your arm in his, walking the short distance back to your Febreze-ridden hotel. The first thing you did once you were back in your room was take off your heels. They were only a kitten heel, but your feet were already blistering, and you winced as you went to the bathroom to wash off your makeup. Mingyu had set your stuff down on the small desk before walking out onto the deck connected to your room. You craned your neck out, assuming he was going to smoke a joint, but he was just staring at the ocean, noticing how loud the waves crashed against the shore.
You padded out of the bathroom and leaned against the door frame for a moment, admiring him in the dim light. It almost left in you in disbelief how you had roped Kim Mingyu, one of the most attractive men you’d ever met and probably one of the longest crushes you’d ever had in your life, into being your wedding date for an entire year. He had a lost a bet, but he really didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to invest in a new suit. He didn’t have take the time off from his two jobs. He didn’t have to listen to your trauma, or look at you like you were this painting to be worshipped, this Mona Lisa of sorts. Mingyu could’ve said no.
But he didn’t.
“I’m going to take a shower,” you finally informed him, and he turned to meet you eyes. “Can you help me out of my dress?”
He nodded diligently, following you to the bathroom. You pulled your hair up with one hand, and with deft fingers, he slid the zipper down your back. Typically, you would hold the dress to your chest until he left the bathroom, out of respect, but you were letting it pool at your feet tonight. You stepped out of it, your gaze locking with his as you turned on the shower. You were giving him this look and he was still standing there in his half-buttoned dress shirt, hands forming into fists as he fought the urge touch you. Waiting for a sign. Waiting for your permission.
But you didn’t even have to say anything. Your eyes said the words for you. As you climbed into the standing shower, he took his time removing his suit, pretending as if he wasn’t fucking dying to have his hands on you, and then he was behind you, the hard panes of his chest flush against your back. He closed the shower door as the glass began to fog up.
The water was scalding as it rained down on your head, steam forming around the small bathroom. You could still feel the dried tears on your face, imprinted underneath your makeup all night, and you did your best to wash them away. Mingyu noticed the way your shoulders sagged, the way you sighed while you were lost in thought, and as much as wanted touch you in places that made those sweet sounds fall from your lips, he held himself back. Instead, he let his hands comb through your wet hair before scrubbing shampoo into the strands. You relaxed against him, closing your eyes as he washed your hair.
It was so domestic that you could cry.
(Again.)
The last person you ever thought could be capable of this kind of care was Mingyu. You both had known each other for eight years, and not once had he displayed this kind of person around you. Or maybe you just weren’t paying attention, too lost in your own perception of him. Even now, you couldn’t help but remind yourself of when he avoided you after the hookup in senior year. He really isn’t the same guy, Vernon’s voice echoed in your head. Give him a chance. You had never trusted those words, but in this moment … you realized where you had went wrong.
The water began to get cold when it came time to wash his own hair and you could tell he was struggling to rush. His mannerisms made you giggle, and even though the steam began to dissipate from the room, you still turned to his front and rested your forehead on his chest, letting the lukewarm water beat down your neck.
When you walked out of the shower, you had never felt more fresh and at ease. Your body was all warm and you had brought the comfiest pajamas for summer weather. The breeze wafting off the ocean blew through your room from the open screen door, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore could lull you to sleep.
But right now, it seemed like neither of you were keen on the subject. As you slipped under the covers next to each other, you were grateful that there was only one bed: one large, king-sized bed that both of you could be using to spread out. Instead, you were huddled close, hair still wet from the shower, and his arms locked around you like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. Your hands cupped his face, studying parts of him that you didn’t think of in your previous lust-induced hazes. Fingers traced his lips, brushed over the tip of his nose – where his tiny mole was stamped – before you skimmed the shell of his ear.
You almost didn’t recognize your own voice as you whispered, “Thank you for tonight.”
“Anytime,” he smiled.
A beat of silence. Hands stilled. Lips pursed.
“Mingyu?”
“Yeah?”
“Please, kiss me.”
His mouth was on yours before you could even finish the sentence, but he still took his time exploring new ways to make you moan into the kiss. He kept one hand splayed on your back, pressing you further into him, while the other played with the hem of your loose t-shirt. Your hands knotted into his hair as he kissed you slow, savoring you like a fine meal. And you simply let him. You were like molten lava, melting in the palm of his calloused hands.
You felt his fingers prod at the waistband of your shorts, and it was game over. Slipping them under, he practically whined into your mouth when he realized you hadn’t put any panties on after the shower. His mouth disconnected from yours, fingers sliding between your slick folds. “Are you trying to kill me?” He breathed against your lips.
“In my defense,” you chuckled softly, “I forgot to bring them to the bathroom.”
He laughed with you, and you were debating on crying again because he was so kind and good and definitely just as obsessed with you as you were with him. No matter how many times you didn’t want to admit it, you had somehow fallen into Kim Mingyu’s trap once again.
He kissed you again, hungrier this time, as he spread you open with his fingers. You whimpered, but he swallowed it with his tongue and began to rub tight circles on your clit. Your leg lifted, hooking onto his waist, and you bucked against his hand. Your body felt like it was on fire, but Mingyu was careful, plucking your strings like a guitar, and you needed moremoremore. Pushing two fingers inside of you, his kiss was like a sound barrier as he consumed all your sweet sounds, as if that would allow him to hear them forever.
It was only when you came apart that he dragged his lips to your neck, wanting to focus on your moans as he fucked you with his fingers. He felt you shake, your pussy squeezing his thick fingers, and he kept rubbing your clit through it, wanting to prolong your orgasm as much as possible. If not for you, then for him, just so he could hear you. He would make you cum as many times as you wanted if it meant he could hear his name falling from your lips.
Neither of you wanted to stop; all fumbling hands and shaky limbs as he finally tugged your shorts off. It was a lot more difficult to take off his boxers without separating from you, but you laughed and you were so pretty that he almost forgot what he was doing in the first place. Once he was situated, you rolled on top of him, straddling his lap. You held his face in your hands, and for a moment, you could almost see reflections of the dark ocean outside in his starry gaze. Your palms drifted down, fingertips tracing the hard panes of his chest. He was all muscle, sculpted like your very own David statue; his complexion so similar to golden hour personified.
You lifted your t-shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. Mingyu was already so hard that it hurt, but he took a few more seconds to stare at you. He wanted to remember this moment forever: the sight of you on top of him, naked and vulnerable, hair wet and a faint blush on your cheeks.
Sitting up on your knees, you positioned yourself right over his cock and gripped the shaft to get the perfect angle inside of you. You were looking at him and he was looking at you as you lowered yourself slightly, grazing his tip against your wet slit, still dripping from your previous orgasm. Mingyu groaned at the sensitivity, throwing his head back against the pillow and muttering, “This is so mean.”
“You like when I’m mean,” you giggled, repeating the same words you uttered that fateful night after Chan’s wedding, when Mingyu’s face was buried between your thighs.
And Mingyu recognized it too, a grin making it’s way to his lips. But that was soon replaced by look of complete bliss as you finally sunk down onto his cock. He was the perfect size, filling you just right but never uncomfortable. He gave you a moment to adjust, but you could tell from his white-knuckled grip on your hips that he was damn near fighting the urge to thrust up into you. He didn’t though. He was patient and perfect and all yours.
You anchored yourself to him with one hand on his shoulder, beginning to rock into him at a snail’s pace. Your eyes connected, and even as he moaned underneath you, he was unable to stop smiling. Mingyu let you set the pace, and you took your time, getting to know what speed had him pulling your hips harder. The angle had him buried so deep inside that you could practically feel him in your stomach, and you sighed each time as you moved against him.
“Fuck,” he whined, shifting to sit up against the headboard. “I’ve needed you so bad.”
“I know, I know,” you confessed in a breathy whimper. “Me too.”
He was digging his fingers into your hips so hard that you were sure there’d be marks, but you didn’t care right now. You just wanted him, wanted this. Wanted to be this connected to him and feel him this deep and cum together as the waves crashed against the shore outside. He began to move you on his own accord, bouncing you on his cock as he leaned forward to nip and suck at your neck. “So pretty,” he mused against your skin, breath stuttering as your walls tightened. “So pretty sitting on my cock.”
You were the one whining now, raking your fingers into his dark strands as your thigh muscles burned. Your breasts jumped with each slam of his hips against yours, and he planted hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, dipping his tongue into your collarbone, before latching his mouth around one of your nipples.
Your hands pulled at his hair. “Mingyu, please,” you cooed, not exactly sure what you were begging for. Just moremoremore.
His eyes lifted to yours and you watched him fucking smile while tugging at your nipple. You were melting like putty, and he was able to still move you with one hand, using his free one to cup your other breast and run his thumb over that nipple. Tears pricked at your eyes, feeling him pulse inside you with each pass. And when he started to thrust up into you, you were pretty sure that you were close to seeing stars.
“Wanna cum with you,” he rasped while switching breasts and flicking his tongue over your other nipple. “Please, wanna cum inside you.”
You nodded, too cock drunk to say anything besides, “Yesyesyes.”
He was rolling your hips now, practically rutting into you as he lifted his head from your chest, leaving a trail of spit. You leaned down and let his lips ghost over yours. Moans slipped from your mouth into his, and he was bouncing you on his cock so fast you almost couldn’t register to breathe. His breath was hot against your lips, so close he could feel his body shaking, but he needed you to be closer, needed to feel you tightened around him and milk him for everything he was worth.
Snaking a hand between your bodies, he found your clit easily, knowing your body better than anyone ever had. All you could hear in that moment was the sound of the ocean through your screen door and skin slapping against skin. You were so wet and warm and – shit, you were starting to clench around him. He rolled your clit between two fingers, and a whimper slipped out of his mouth when he felt your pussy clamp around his throbbing cock.
He needed to cum and so did you and – fuck, he could feel it, feel you, feel how deep he was inside.
He would do this forever if you asked.
“Fuck, Mingyu, oh my god, right there, right there –” You pleaded in his ear, feeling yourself tip right over that edge –
Then you were cumming.
And so was he.
You moaned his name like it was a prayer, shattering as you came undone. Your walls were squeezing him like a vice, and he was unable to hold himself back anymore, burying himself to the hilt before painting your insides white with his orgasm. Hips jerked, bodies went taunt. You felt your whole being dissolve into nothing but pleasure, molding yourself to him in his arms. When the rush of warmth started to fade and he felt your combined releases seep from between your thighs, he breathed out a sigh of relief, brushing kisses over your jaw.
You weren’t sure you were in your right mind. Everything was so hazy. But you didn’t want to move away just yet. Even when his cock started to go soft inside of you, you stayed connected to him, pushing his hair back from his forehead and whispering praises in his ear like, “You were so good … So good to me … My Mingyu … I’ve always been yours …” You could feel him smiling against your skin, his hands tracing circles on your lower back.
But as time seemed to stop and you felt peace for the first time in a while, you realized just how deep you had fallen. You were drowning in him.
Mingyu had wanted to tell you that it felt exactly like his dreams. If you were drowning in him, he had already sunk to the bottom a long time ago.
Save the Date for the wedding of Nathan Chaney and Your Mother: September 5th
Your mother was remarrying. Her and Nathan had been together since you went off to college, and then got engaged just a year after you graduated. They decided on a long engagement, choosing to plan out a destination wedding in the Caribbean. You thought it was crazy at first, but then your mother said, “If this is going to be my last wedding – and it is – I want to go out with a bang.” You couldn’t exactly blame her. After your dad had cheated and the divorce was finalized, you knew your mother deserved something like this. She deserved the world.
When she had called you just a week before the wedding, babbling on about who you were possibly bringing now that your ex was completely out of the picture, you paused. Holding the phone to your ear and watering one of your half-dead plants with the other, you said, “I’m … I’m going with Mingyu.”
“Vernon?” She asked, not believing what you said.
“Mingyu.”
“Like … the Mingyu from university? The football player?”
You sighed, playing with the dead leaves on the plant. “He was also – and still is – one of Vernon’s good friends.”
“Oh,” your mother said, more surprised than anything. “Well, you better watch for Nathan’s sister. If Mingyu looks anything like how I remember from Family Day, she will go buck wild over him.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” you chuckled.
The truth was … you weren’t exactly sure how this wedding was going to go. Ever since the last one, you had been progressively putting more distance between you and Mingyu. Once again. Your last night together had been so real … too real, and you wanted to save yourself from the heartbreak after this wedding when you never saw him again. As much as you hated to admit it, feelings were now involved, seeping into your bloodstream, until your heart thrummed like the sound of his name on your tongue.
Slowly pushing him away … it hurt, but it was better this way. Pain was temporary and so was your arrangement. You knew that going into it, so how did you end up in this mess? You remembered what had happened after Chan’s wedding, the way Mingyu looked at you as he was shotgunning smoke into your mouth and – yeah, you knew exactly how you ended up here.
If you kept telling yourself this was for the better, maybe you’d start believing it. Maybe your feelings would drift like smoke and your mother’s wedding would be a final farewell before you two went your separate ways.
But you had been doing that for a month now.
And those feelings refused to fade.
You had an early morning flight the day of your mother’s wedding. Typically, you wouldn’t be getting to a destination wedding on such short notice, but the ceremony was small. So small your mother refused to have a rehearsal dinner and no bridal party. It was about her and Nathan, and you had to respect that she was doing things her way this time around.
You had waited at your gate right before doors closed for Mingyu, since you were on the same flight. But he was clearly running late and you were much too awkward around him now to text him. So you finally got on the plane and found your seat, noticing the one seat in the back still left unoccupied. Once you had landed five hours later, you quickly headed to the hotel that Nathan had booked for the ceremony and reception. Your phone lit up as you hailed a ride.
Mingyu: I’m sorry, I got a new flight
Mingyu: I’ll be there just 2 hours after you land
Mingyu: I’ll make it for the ceremony. I promise
Feeling his anxiety radiate through your phone, you believed him, and then wondered if maybe this was a blessing in disguise. You were rewarded a few more hours of alone time before you had your last hurrah with Mingyu. Maybe if you buried your feelings deep enough, you wouldn’t tense up the second you saw his face. Maybe if you didn’t look into his eyes, you wouldn’t have the urge to kiss him. Or let him hold your hand. Or spread your legs to welcome him inside –
You dropped your lipgloss onto the bathroom counter, sick of your own thoughts. Your square-neck, baby blue dress was clinging to every curve, but you felt like you were being suffocated by the fabric. You had just finished doing your hair and makeup, but you couldn’t quite keep your thoughts at bay. Nerves batted against your skull, making your hands shake slightly. What would you do once Mingyu walked in? Would you avoid his stare? Would you tell him immediately how much you liked him and how this wouldn’t work out and you knew you set yourself up for heartbreak –
Maybe you needed a walk.
Grabbing a spare pair of sandals, you headed outside to walk the beach just along the grounds of the hotel. There was still an hour before the ceremony, and you could just see the planners putting finishing touches on the decorations laid out on the shore, where your mother wanted it to take place. Couples were still walking through the water. Kids were making sand castles. The sun was slowly beginning to set and the breeze was whipping your hair off your shoulders.
And you smiled, despite everything you were feeling. Because where there was an end, there would always be a new beginning.
“HEY!”
You spun around, your sandals sinking into the sand. Although you recognized his voice, the last thing you expected to see was Kim Mingyu running towards you in his pristine black tux, his tie loose around his neck and blowing in the breeze. It was like something out of a movie, the kind of movie where there was supposed to be a happy ending, but you knew you weren’t afforded luck like that in real life.
He stopped in front of you, running a hand through his hair. Sand sprinkled down the tops of his shoes.
“When did you get here?” You raised a brow.
“About twenty minutes ago. I flew in my tux because I figured I wouldn’t have enough time to change. But now it just kind of smells like …” He lifted the sleeve to his nose and inhaled. “Like peanuts and old plastic.”
You giggled, holding a hand to your mouth and just … staring at him. He was smiling at you, fangs poking out from under his top lip. His skin was even prettier in the sunset. His hair, despite the messy texture, was effortless and perfect. He embodied sunshine in its purest form.
“Well, you …” You looked to the water, your hands flexing at your sides. “You didn’t need to come find me out here.”
His voice was sweet, soft, like fresh sheets, when he replied, “Yes, I did.” His hand reached out a little, attempting to lace your fingers together, but he stuffed them in his pockets instead. “When I was wondering where you’d be, I remembered something you said to me in college … Do you remember Move-In Day of junior year when we had that bonfire with Vernon and a few other people? You really didn’t enjoy my company back then, but I sat next to you because you agreed to sharing that god awful cheap vodka we used to like.” He laughed when you grimaced. “We got to talking and I asked you, ‘If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?’ And you said something like, ‘I want to be walking on a beach. I’ve always felt the most calm with my toes in wet sand.’”
You blinked, wondering if you had heard him right. He … how did he … “You remember that?”
“I remember a lot of things.”
And there he was, reaching out again and brave enough to brush his fingers over your knuckles. You looked down, watching his hand interlock with yours, and his palms were balmy and calloused. They felt familiar, like home. And you simply couldn’t believe that you had deprived yourself of this.
“Did you mean it when you said, ‘I’ve always been yours?’”
Your head snapped up, tsking under your breath. Hand still intertwined with his, you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “You came all the way out here to ask me that?” You asked, flustered and agitated.
His brow shot up. “So that’s a yes then?”
Your mouth opened, but then closed when you realized that he caught you.
He added, his voice like velvet again, “Then why are you avoiding me? I can sense it.”
“Well, if you’re that sensitive to other people’s feelings than I guess that –” You paused, taking a deep breath as you gathered yourself. Your ears reddened. “Look, I think it’s pretty obvious that I’ve … I like you. A lot. But having feelings for you would be so messy. The last time I went through this, we hooked up and you hardly spoke to me after.”
Mingyu’s brow furrowed. “That was years ago.”
“You know how uncommitted you’ve always been,” you quickly remarked, even though you didn’t fully believe those words anymore. “Weren’t you the one that told me at the start of this that men never really grow up?”
His eyes narrowed a little. “Are you playing psychological warfare with me right now?”
Slipping your fingers away from his, you shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’ve been your date to five weddings this year. It wasn’t just about losing some bet. I did it for you.” He stared at you incredulously. “Are you really going to hold me to a mistake I made six years ago? When I was a shitty 22-year-old that was terrified to tell the girl I liked for years that I was interested in her?”
“I never … I never thought you liked me back then.”
Mingyu’s gaze softened, and he tucked another curl behind your ear that blew in the wind. “I made you believe that I didn’t because it was easier than admitting my feelings. I was terrified of rejection. And an idiot.”
You couldn’t help but snort at his comment, but you knew this conversation was far from over. “Well, I …” You rubbed at your nose and turned away from him, facing the water that looked almost sapphire in color. The waves sparkled under the setting sun. “Wedding season is over after this and we can both go back to our normal lives. Vernon won’t flip a lid when he sees me texting you all the time and everything will be back to the way it was. I always prepared for you to just forget about me after this anyway.”
“I love Vernon, but this isn’t about him.” Mingyu stepped forward into your line of vision. “What if I don’t want to go back to the way things were?”
Your eyes flickered to his, and it was his turn to step closer again. His large palm cupped your cheek, his skin always so cozy and inviting that you just had to lean into him. Fingertips traced your brow bone as his gaze lingered on your lips.
“I don’t want to forget about you or never see you again. I want to be around you,” he confessed. “I … want to go on more dates with you. I want to be your date to more than just weddings.”
You hesitated, unraveling and dissecting each word in your head, before you came to the conclusion that … oh, my god, he had feelings for you too. Had you always been this much of an absolute moron?
Getting on your tiptoes, you closed the distance between you two, your lips crashing onto his like the water against the shoreline. Your body almost suctioned to his, bringing him even closer when your arms wound around his neck. He kept that one hand on your cheek, the other splaying on your lower back, like how he always did when he was nervous. But he had nothing to be nervous about, because you liked him and he liked you. The world felt like it was spinning, but also just right, and his tongue was licking into your mouth enough to make you feel breathless. You could do this forever, be this relaxed in his arms, kiss him as if it was only you two in your own world. And as he tugged on your bottom lip to make your breathing heavy, you decided that your dream had become a reality.
When you broke the kiss, your cheeks were definitely flushed, even under the layer of blush you put on. Mingyu grinned, tilting his head as he whispered, “So you have always been mine then?”
“Such a tease sometimes,” you repeated his fateful words from June.
You turned, tugging on his hand playfully as the waves begin to lick at the sand near your feet. “C’mon,” you chuckled. “If we’re late to this wedding, my mom will kill me before I can even think about calling you my boyfriend.”
Mingyu had wanted to ask you to marry him only two years later, and thank god, he finally found the words.
summary: in an attempt to prove that you aren’t a total goody-two-shoes, you commit to a dare that your friends take too far; they leave you in the middle of the woods, wet naked and alone with no light source. in a turn of events, you come face to face with what lurks beneath the depths of the lake at night.
rating: R18+ MATURE, minors please do not interact
genre: fantasy au, smut
wc: 3k+
warnings/tags: siren!jk, readers got fake ass bitch ass friends, brief nipple play, dumbification of reader, allusions to jk having powers?, manipulation, unforgiving jk, isolated jk, straight up just sex, allusions to death?
notes: it’s not really significant to the story 'plot' using that lightly because this is just one big smut scene lol, but it is based in the 60s because i listened to a song from last night in soho (which is a 60s au film) on repeat the entirety of writing this lol
soundtrack: downtown (downtempo) – anya taylor joy
⋆ ࣪. masterlist ˖ ࣪⭑
“Y/N wouldn’t do it— she’s a total square.”
Your bright smile sinks into a sullen pout. Your friends gathered around the fire are snickering, looking at you with judgement and pity as they whisper behind their hands. You shift on your spot on the log, your nice capris sure to have dirt marks because they were white and the only pair you owned. You look down at your feet clad in your favourite pair of pink flats, feet turned inward as they swirled in the dirt. “I–I’m not! Really, I’m not.”
“It’s okay, Y/N. You’re a peach and that’s all that matters!” Judy pouts dramatically, her tone is whiny as she mocks you, but it doesn't slip by you. “In your pretty little bows, and light colours,” She tugs harshly on your ponytail, which was indeed held up by a ribbon that matched with your shoes. You gasp, snatching your hair over your shoulder with lowered brows.
“Hey, come on Jude, play nice. She’s fragile.” Taehyung snickers, throwing arm over her shoulder to tug her toward him and away from you. You’d deem it as him trying to save you, but he’s the one that called you a square in the first place. Just because you lived in a pink bedroom and wore light colours a lot, and liked ribbons, and still slept with your stuffed animals at night– that was aside the point.
There was more to you than a stereotypical depiction of innocence. Not that you needed their approval, but deep down you wished they were kinder to you. They were the first people to insist on you being their friend when you had started college, and somehow you wound up in situations like this with them; with Taehyung and Judy upright bullying you while Jimin and Jiyoon kiss their asses. All because you were unapologetically – to put it simply – yourself.
You let your hands fall to your lap, head following with it as you stare down at your fiddling fingers as if it were the most interesting thing you had seen to date. Your thoughts waver for a moment as you wonder what time you’ll be snuggled up in bed; something tells you not any time soon.
“M’not…” You grumble under your breath, avoiding the eyes all glued to you; limp posture and a frown to boot. You suck in a deep breath, “I’ll do it.” You puff out, shrugging with fake nonchalance “I don’t care.” You stand up, dusting off your dirtied pants and turning on your heel toward the lake nearby.
From behind you, your friends holler at you, following after you as you peel off your clothes the closer you come to the water, leaving a trail of your clothing behind you. Suddenly, your rush of adrenalin blinds you from the fact you’re in nothing but your underwear, and you drown out the cat calling and whistling coming from the men behind you. You take a step back before jumping in without another thought to stop you.
As you suspect, the water is freezing. You the moment your skin collides with the cold temperature. Your friends are howling from above the water as you plummet through the calm waters. You're quick to swim up toward the surface as soon as you regain control over your body. When you come up, you're gasping for air, coughing up water and shivering at the cool air nipping at your wet skin. “Are you all happy now?!” You shout into the darkness, your voice echoing around you. You're wiping at your face frantically, a slight panic coming over you when you struggle to regain focus with the stinging in your eyes. There's no answer.
You’re met with silence.
And your friends are nowhere to be seen.
You swim toward the edge of the lake, your heart thrumming in your chest when you realise, they’ve left you here. “This isn’t funny!” You call out, but the moment you go to push yourself out of the water, something catches your ankle, and you slip back into the water. Your fingertips dig into the dirt as you brace yourself for submersion, but it doesn’t come. There’s a grip on your ankle from below you and you’re too scared to look at what it is. It’s dark and cold and your friends are jerks. They’ll be sorry when you’re dead. You quiver, frozen in place, your grip in the moist dirt beneath your fingers the only thing keeping you above the water. Whatever has you doesn’t tug you hard enough, but it’s wrapped around your ankle snug.
Then you feel it.
It bumps against the back of your thigh. You gasp loudly, your fingernails drag through the dirt when it pulls you back, slow, antagonising— like it’s playing with its’ food.
“Guys, please!” You cry, tears welling up in your eyes, “H-help–” You screech when your body is pulled back into the water, gasping for a breath and squeezing your eyes shut as you prepare for the water to consume you once again. It doesn’t come. It feels a lot like two hands that grab at your waist, stationing you up so just your head is above water.
There's a scale-y texture grazes your skin below, wrapping around your legs to stop your legs from kicking. You forget how to breathe when bubbles bloom in the water in front of you. Your eyes are wide, given no choice but to watch when the culprit emerges from the water to reveal itself. Serpent eyes, dark and serene bore into yours the moment they’re visible. Higher, he comes; a boy – a man – there’s scales scattered over his skin, his temples and cheek bones adorned in blue and purple hues, iridescent and glistening in the moon’s light. His wet waves drape flat over his forehead that is, for the most part, match the dark of his eyes.
When his face is level with yours, he keeps his distance at first. He tilts his head forward, inspecting yours the same way you did his before drawing back. He has an entire grip on you still, hands falling slowly to your hips, a slimy and scaley appendage tightening around your bound legs. It pulls you closer to him, strong and sure. “I thought humans were intelligent,” His voice slips past his lips like silk, like he’s whispering a gentle song to lull you into slumber. “Disrupting my waters when the moon is bright, big ang full is a foolish thing, you know?”
He spoke to you in your language as if it were his first, and only. His words were clear; he dragged them out so tenderly in a way that makes you blink heavily into his eyes. You can’t think, you’re heaving, and your panic slows down steadily, and a sense of safety washes over you. He removes one hand from your body, raising it from the water to reveal more of his scales, dancing up his arm in harmony with the rest of them, stopping just about his shoulder. His fingers push your heavy locks behind your shoulder, and he hums lightly. Approval? Curiosity? You can’t find it in you to overthink the details of his actions. “It’s been so long,” He sighs longingly, “It’s been so lonely.” The part of him those locks against your legs pulls away, his warmth removed from you. You don’t mean to whine at the loss. He takes your frozen arms, moves you gentle through the water, further away from recognisable terrains, and the place that whence you came. Against your instincts you let him take you, the instinct that is swallowed whole by a sense of obedience. Don’t fight him, this voice tells you, he was powerful.
He places your hands to rest against the new rocky terrain, and you watch him closely as he pushes himself out of the water. The vision of him only confirmed your stuttering thoughts. A thick, large tail, a wide thin at the end that twitches beside you. It brushes lightly against your shoulder when it dips in and out of the water, like it longs to be consumed by it.
The same beautiful patterns and colours that litter his skin is the entirety of his tale, the place when his torso ends and tail begins melded perfectly, fading naturally into one another. This couldn’t be a prank, nor a dream, because when your hand moves on its own accord to touch it, it feels far too real to be fake.
The creature leans back with nonchalance; the side of his lips upturned with a knowingness as you admire him in all his unique beauty. He rests his palms behind to keep himself upright so he can watch as your fingertips explore him. “Come, pet.” It’s demanding, but it’s nurturing in a way that makes you obey. You come out of the water, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips that were growing drier from being out of his natural habitat. He drags himself further up the terrain, removing himself from the water fully. You crawl towards him wantonly, pupils blown out as you chase his touch again. He laughs with a mockery to the tone, and his eyes flickering over your exposed body in a hunger that had long been dormant. Like he had told you, he had been alone for the majority of his life. Protecting— guarding the home in which he had grown accustomed.
One of your breasts has spilt on of your bra, the material sopping and soaked and heavy, growing slightly see through as your underwear had. White cotton, leaving not much to the imagination. A shame, really. He liked a good chase, but the effect he had on a human hadn’t allowed that of them— his spellbound eyes and regal prose that sang to them in dangerous hymns.
He reaches for your upper arm, his grip sure but not threatening. He uses your weight to pull him closer to you, “What do they call you, little human?” He whispers, his lips ghosting over your cheek just by your ear. Your chest moves rapidly, heavy breaths harmonising with his. He riles you up and the closer contact, and your reaction riles up his growing desire. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have you— not when you were needier than most.
“Y/N” You mumble in your trance-like state, your eyes rolling back when he noses at your jaw, and he inhales when he feels your blood thump against your neck. His hands dance over your skin, hooking his fingers in the middle of your bra, pulling it forward. He furrows his brows when it snaps back against your skin, you yelp at the slight impact. He looks down at the contraption that gets in his way, using his other hand to snap the wire in half with ease. He roughly tugs it off your body, tossing it away with frustration that you would have found cute if you hadn’t been so entranced with him.
His hands find your skin again, a hand sliding to your lower back to pull you closer, dipping his head to kiss on your collarbones with feather light lips. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He muffles against your skin, you look down at him, your fingers taking purchase in his waves, still damp but softer to touch now that the air has dried it more. Your fingernails massage gentle into his scalp, looking up at you when he flickers his tongue out against your already hardened nipple. You struggle to keep your eyes open, “Do you want me, Y/N?” He asks with a cheek to his features, wrapping his lip around the sensitive bud to suck gently, swirling his tongue against it.
You throw your head back, arching your back as you push your chest further into his face. He releases your nipple, another gentle kiss to your chest when he shuffles his heavy weight toward you slightly. “What are you?” You keen, eyes watery with need, your hand sliding from his hair, down his shoulder, over his scales. He was strangely warm for a creature submerged by cold depths. He doesn’t answer you, doesn’t react— he just pulls you into a kiss that takes your breath away.
Deep down you knew what he could be. You’ve heard the fairytale many a time, in fact, it was one of your mother’s favourites; it was the story she read you on sleepless nights, because it was also the one that ensured you could rest your eyes with a smile on your face. A fair maiden who wished to grow legs, to experience life above water, torn between two worlds. In some ways you felt as if you could relate to her; she longed to be part of something, unsure of where she truly belonged. Right now, you were exactly where you wanted to be, but there’s an emotional clawing in the pits of your stomach that you can’t put your finger on.
You knew of two things: mermaids were benevolent, while sirens were vindictive and malicious. You can’t decipher the truth when you’re being dragged deeper into the pits of his stare.
He kisses you like he’s eating away at your sanity, the thoughts that fight to come to the surface and snap you back into reality. You don’t notice the way his tail splits in two, how he groans heavily against your slips, hardening the kiss as his tail disappears, in its place now a pair of legs. He endures the seething pain that shoots through him, only for a moment, all in turn for a night of pleasure.
A night of being wanted— a night in which he was no longer alone.
How selfish of him.
When he pulls away, you look down at his new form, bare but just as strong. He examines himself too, he hadn’t seen himself like this in years, not since the last time he had selfishly consumed the presence of someone human. That was far too long ago now, and he was much younger— naïve, even. You don’t dwell on it for too long, not when his cock is long, hard and twitching against his abdomen like that. His thighs twitch under your stare, a droplet of your saliva slips past your parted lips and dripples down your chin. His fingers dip beneath your chin forcing your gaze back to his face. “You can have me, little human.” He leans forward, his tongue darting out to collect what secretes from your mouth. Up your neck, licking over your lips, kissing you briefly. “You will have me.”
He was smug and sure, evident in his slowly growing grin. It’s sinister, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but in your state of mind you take it as a formal invitation for you to climb on top of him. Your palms shake against his chest, knees digging into the hard ground. Your damp, covered heat rocks against his cock, and he hisses at the feeling, intense and so forgotten it was nearly foreign to him. His hands soothe up your back, and you whimper. He coos; your pouty lips endearing to him. “What is it, my pet?”
“Aches–” you shudder, his attention turned to your breasts, each hand closing around the perky mounds, fingers brushing against your sensitive nipples.
“What aches, dear girl?” He asks, rubbing his thumbs over them. You stare down at him with lowered brows, making him click his tongue. “So dumb.” He chuckles, “You long for me this much?”
He guides your back against the ground, switching your positions. He tugs your underwear down your legs, patiently this time, inhaling your scent like a drug, consuming your desperation like it was his lifeline.
Because the more emotions you fed him, the longer he was able to roam this earth.
He ruts his hardness against your slick, and he growls because your pussy is so soaked, reminiscent of a place where he belonged, which has him longing for more of it—submersion. He laughs against your neck, prodding it at your entrance messily, his eagerness evident in his hurried movements. He pushes into you, wincing at tightness of your walls, his teeth baring to drag lightly against your throat. Your jaw falls slack, fingers digging into his hard biceps that tense when you clench around his thickness. “M-my God…” You keen, baring more of your throat for him to lick and suck upon, his slow thrusts are agonising but the indulging your fluttering hole that takes him like you were made for him. “Oh my God!”
He feeds off your praise, an expression of pleasure or not. Perhaps he was a God; God of the waters, with power to control the minds of unsuspecting victims. The thrill of the hunt, to kill— to fuck. Jungkook was a God in his own rite: a seeker of feelings, who stole the light from the eyes of those full of life in turn for power and strength.
He had not a benevolent bone in his body.
The wet sounds of him pulling in and out of you leaves him ravenous, picking up his pace, hardening the force of his hips. You arch up to meet his thrusts, frantic to feel more of him. Your stickiness drips all over your thighs, it transfers onto his thighs, relishing at the liquids you cover him in. He pushes your legs back, hands beneath your knees, head falling with eyes screwed shut in concentration. His resolve falters when you squeeze yourself around him, cry out for him to fuck you harder, faster, beg him to give you more when he was giving you all he had.
“Humans are so fucking selfish, fuck.” He seethes, “Be quiet.” He huffs, slowing his hips, kissing you harshly, his tongue wrestling yours, pushing down on it in hopes to silence your noise. A hand slides up your body, squeezing at your breast, until he reaches your throat, and tightens his fingers so much you so that you have to fight for a breath. He pistons into you quickly, growling and grunting as he uses your cunt how he pleases. He can’t think, he moans loudly against your mouth when he can feel it rising within him. Then it snaps.
He cums harshly into your cunt, and you cry out, sobbing when he pulls his mouth off yours. Your cries are caught in his grasp, coming out in small squeaks as you stare up at him with damp eyes, glistening with a worship that sates him nicely. Your legs ache, but he pushes down on your thighs as he empties himself inside you, twitching and throbbing against your walls so harshly it makes you cum soon after. His weight falls against you, and you wheeze. Not from the sheer mass of him, but because you feel sucked dry. “My god…” You whine tiredly.
He hums in approval, resting against you, listening to slow of your heartbeat. It’s beautiful, he thinks, a welcomed rhythm to his greedy ears. Your eyes are closed, pacified in the sleep that weighs on you after being used. He looks at your face just for a moment longer, fingers tracing your soft features, humming a haunting melody as you rest beneath him. When he’s satisfied, sated in his endeavours. He lifts himself off your limp body, your chest rising and falling so peacefully. It’s a pretty sight; he admits it to be.
Quietly, he sits himself down at the water’s edge, looking over his shoulder at you as he falls back into his, patiently awaiting his return.
The night is quiet, no chirping of the crickets, no hooting of the howls, no breeze that howls. The water is the only thing that remains alive, its’ soft babbling and your quiet breaths melding into one amidst the silence of the night. The harmony of the moment is disturbed, a hand grasping at your ankle, dragging you under.
